by Kyle Pratt
James pushed the hand from his hip and gulped air. “I’m … okay.” He took another breath and continued. “Fell … knocked … the wind … out of me.” He drew in one slow deep breath and then another. Then he sat up on an elbow and pointed. “Dad, meet Emma. She’s with me.”
Emma knelt beside James and Franklin.
A huge weight of worry slipped from Franklin’s shoulders. He smiled at Emma. He had seen her before, but never spoken to her, and such niceties would have to wait. After a quick embrace of his son he asked, “Where are your Mom and Logan?”
“I don’t know.”
The worry pounced back.
“I wasn’t at home when the attack happened. Emma and I have been running and hiding for over a day.”
The church bell continued to toll.
Bickel ran across the dark street. “Who’s hurt?”
“We’re fine.” Franklin looked back the way she had come. Someone lay sprawled on the lawn. “Is that Rankin?” He pointed. “What happened?”
“Shot. Dead. I’ve got to go.” Bickel ran to the next group.
Grief for Rankin mingled with worry about his wife and young son. He looked for a relatively safe location for James and Emma and spotted it on the far side of the concrete porch behind them. “Go over there and stay low.”
They’d be only a few yards away, but behind concrete and partially hidden by bushes, so Franklin felt able to concentrate on the battle.
The militia radio crackled to life. “Enemy near the church. Engaging now.” He pulled out the other radio, intending to warn Lieutenant Poole, but paused. If he had one of their radios, they might have one of his. Before Franklin could figure out what to say, gunfire across the battlefield grew to a thunderous roar.
Franklin moved to the edge of the SUV. Smoke poured from the church steeple and the bell still pealed its plea for help. The squads closest to him moved to better cover and returned fire. Poole had redeployed his people to a flanking position near one of the homes.
With his wife and baby, Keller ran from the line of cars at the intersection, back toward Franklin. Together they slid behind the vehicle.
While Keller caught his breath, Franklin asked, “What’s the status of your squad?”
Katie slid the wailing child under her shirt to breastfeed.
Keller nodded to Franklin and drew a deep breath. “The mob around the church isn’t fighting us, but the militia is protecting them. Every time we move, they fire on us. Right now we’re in a standoff.
“How many enemy combatants are in the area?”
“The militia is barricaded in those three homes.” Keller pointed. “So, I can’t be sure, but if they had the manpower, I think they would take us on, not just harass us.”
Kohen shook his head. “The enemy has been pulling back all night, but here they’re making a stand. Why?”
Franklin snorted. “Because if we’re here, we can’t be someplace else.”
“Ah … those other soldiers, the enemy.” Katie pointed. “They told the looters that the church is where most of the food is stored and those inside are protecting it.”
“Why would they say that?” Keller asked. “They know where we stored the food.”
Franklin cursed. “These traitors have been several steps ahead of us for days. We need to change that.” While his resolve held firm, he still needed a plan to alter the situation.
The pace of the bell tolls grew.
Franklin looked from the church to Keller and his wife. “Who’s inside the church?”
They both shrugged.
Why had the militia drawn Franklin away from the food warehouse to the church at the opposite end of the base? They knew food wasn’t stored there, but they told the looters that it was. The militia would likely attack the warehouse again, and soon. Protecting the food was the priority. But the ringing bell pleaded for help. Franklin gazed at the church. Billows of smoke poured from the steeple with tentacles of flame mixed in.
Kohen followed his gaze. “The families we couldn’t find … the militia … I’ll bet they pushed them here, into the church, knowing we would have to help them.”
“I think you’re right.” Franklin swore. “We need to reach the people in the church before the fire spreads.” Please God, if my family is in there, help me save them, and everyone with them. A plan formed in his mind. “The enemy may be monitoring our radios. Keller, tell fourth squad to reinforce Lieutenant Poole. Then tell the lieutenant to attack the militia-held homes. Our soldiers will advance on both the looters and militia.”
Franklin sprinted to his son, still crouching beside the porch. He handed the wide-eyed young man a pistol. “If you need it, use it. I’ll be back soon, but until I do, stay here and stay low.”
“Yes, sir.”
Franklin cast Emma a firm gaze. “Both of you.”
She nodded vigorously.
Keller brought his wife and baby over, kissed them both, and ran off into the darkness.
Several minutes later, Kohen pointed to the street corner. “Fourth squad is moving up to reinforce Poole.”
The blare of gunfire increased.
The militia radio in Franklin’s pocket crackled. “Begin final phase.”
Franklin pulled out his radio and pressed transmit. “Sergeant Briscoe, this is Major Franklin. You are about to come under renewed attack.”
“Roger.” Briscoe’s voice came back to him. “I believe that has already begun.”
“Good luck.”
“Kohen, follow me.” Franklin bent low and sprinted over to where Rankin lay. A bloody gouge tore along his neck and severed the carotid artery. Rankin had bled out in seconds—alone.
Franklin pushed anger and regret aside and grabbed the private’s rifle and ammo. Then he hurried across two lawns and into the street to rejoin his soldiers. With a thud, he stopped against the door of a dark Toyota Camry.
Hunched low, Keller darted from the darkness and joined them behind the line of cars.
After several deep breaths, Franklin said, “Pass the word. Push forward to the church while we engage the militia and any looters with a weapon.”
He moved to the Camry’s back end. Ahead on his left, the mob clustered in several places along the side and front of the church. Off to his right, the militia hunkered in at least three homes. Franklin looked back to the church. Five men edged toward the rear of the building.
He fired two bursts.
One man collapsed to the ground, another screamed and hobbled away. The others scattered.
Like an angry clap of thunder, gunfire boomed as soldiers rushed from cover to cover. A boom drew Franklin’s gaze as Bravo Troop blew open the side door of a house and rushed in.
Franklin dashed over pavement to the cover of a nearby tree. The militia rained fire on the house Bravo Troop now held. Most of the mob had fled, but a few fired from behind cars and trees at the rear of the church.
Splinters of bark flew into his face. Franklin returned fire and moved to a pickup parked near the church.
A shotgun boomed from a broken stained glass window.
“United States Army! Hold your fire!” Franklin yelled over the din of battle.
“Dirk?” A familiar voice shouted from the window.
“Carol?” He peered around the tree and, with the firelight, glimpsed her face through the broken glass.
Flames burst from the steeple and hid the cross at the peak in rolling clouds of smoke. Then, with a deafening boom, it collapsed with a final toll of the bell.
For a moment, silence reigned.
From the rubble, fire spread back along the roof of the brick building above where he had seen his wife. Fire at the front of the building, armed mob at the rear. He had to do something.
Franklin waved for Keller and the others to follow as he made a final dash to the church. With the butt of his rifle, he broke out the remaining glass. Wisps of smoke escaped and stung his nose.
A blanket plopped over the window frame
. “Us out or you in?” Carol coughed.
The soldier beside Franklin screamed and fell to the ground.
Blood splattered onto Franklin and he wiped it from his face.
Bickel ran to the stricken man and rolled him over, revealing a chest wound.
Bullets slammed into nearby trees where men had taken cover and ricocheted off the wall near Franklin. He had hoped to evacuate those inside, but that might get them all killed by gunfire. Gunshot now or fire later? “In!”
He hoisted one soldier after another up to the window while the others provided cover fire.
Bickel stood and shook her head.
Franklin glanced at the dead soldier on the ground, then he helped Bickel into the church. Finally, he passed his rifle to Carol. A hand thrust out of the building. Franklin grabbed it. With the help of a large man, he scrabbled in the window and joined his men.
“Dad!” Logan scurried out from under a nearby pew and hugged his father.
Franklin bent down and wrapped his arms around the boy.
Still holding the rifle, Carol joined the embrace and kissed her husband. “Have you seen James?”
“Yes.” Tears from smoke and emotion filled his eyes. “He’s safe.” He shone his flashlight across the sanctuary. Smoke flowed under the doors to the vestibule, like water from a flood. “How many people are here?”
“Just under two hundred,” Pastor Duncan said.
A man pressed forward. “My son is missing. I need help to find him.”
“My husband needs a doctor,” an older woman pleaded.
The civilians pressed around the soldiers, making it difficult to move.
“Bickel, see what you can do.” Franklin wiped his nose and tried to breathe through his mouth as he turned to the pastor. “There’s a back door, right?”
“Yes.” Duncan rubbed his eye with one hand and pointed with the other. “Two doors. We have people covering them because ….”
“I know about the shooters out back, but there’s no militia,” Franklin said. “The best way out is through those doors. Let’s go, people.”
When everyone had crowded near the rear of the church, Poole’s voice burst over the radio. “Bravo Troop attacking the last enemy position.”
Briscoe’s voice followed. “Whiskey Troop is fully engaged.”
“Roger,” Franklin said over the radio. “Bravo, when done, join Whiskey. Alpha will meet you there.” He told the civilians to stay away from the doors, hugged his wife and son, and then hurried back to Keller. “Lead second squad out the door on the right when I signal.” Franklin pointed. “I’ll take squad one out the left.” When they were in position, he shouted, “Go!”
Franklin and the other soldiers burst through both doors.
Most of the mob behind the church ran. The foolish few raised their weapons to fight.
Along with several soldiers, Franklin shot first, killing eight in mere seconds.
All the others fled.
The fires cast an eerie glow through the fog-like smoke that swirled around them. Beyond the group of soldiers, the neighborhood took on a surreal, ghostly appearance. That, and the sudden silence, stunned Franklin. After several moments, he called out, “Is anyone hurt?” He spotted Bickel.
“I think we’re all good, sir,” she said.
“Okay, people, let’s get the civilians out.”
Carol and Logan were among the first to exit the church. Logan ran over and hid close behind Franklin. Carol stood next to him as people poured from the burning building. Some were helped out, hanging onto others. A few were carried out on doors or blankets tied to poles.
His radio snapped to life. “Alpha Troop, this is Bravo. We’re going to reinforce Whiskey.”
“Roger. We’ll rendezvous with you there.” Franklin turned to the soldiers and civilians with him. “Squad one on the left, two on the right, and civilians in the middle. Follow me.”
Franklin led them across the church lawn as he circled back toward his son. He spotted James on one knee near where he had left him.
Emma burst from the shadows. “Dad!” She ran past Franklin and into the arms of the big man who’d helped him through the window into the church.
Still holding the pistol, James jogged over to his parents. His mother wrapped him in a hug.
“Here.” Still in his mother’s embrace, James passed the gun to his father. “I didn’t use it.”
Franklin handed the weapon to Carol. “We need to keep moving.”
Briscoe’s voice sounded over the radio. “Alpha leader, both warehouses are secure.”
“I guess we can take a moment,” Franklin said.
James mussed Logan’s hair. “I’m glad you didn’t get killed.”
* * *
Franklin walked from the motor pool as a cold dawn spread across an angry red sky. He needed sleep, but he wanted to know how badly his people had been hurt.
His people.
He had often referred to soldiers as his people, but now the scope of those words had grown. Civilians with no connection to the military clung to them for safety.
Poole jogged out the door and handed him a list. “We have less than a hundred soldiers and over three hundred civilians. More are straggling in so those numbers will change.”
Franklin stared at the page without reading.
“Twelve days.” Poole shook his head. “Twelve days without food and the worst of humanity takes over.”
“The worst of humanity is trying to take over. We will stop them.”
Poole rubbed his face. “I hope we can, sir.” He saluted and strode back toward the building.
Franklin walked on, looking for his family. He had read somewhere in the Bible that Light had come into the world, but men loved darkness more. He should find the book and read about the nature of good and evil. Maybe, after some rest, he would talk to Pastor Duncan.
He found Carol, James, and Logan sitting under a large fir tree with Emma and her father.
As Franklin neared, Carol stood and wiped her face, smearing soot with tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“Emma’s mother was killed last night during the battle.”
Exhaustion swept over Franklin.
“Everything we tried to build has been burned and destroyed by fire, gangs, mobs, and militias.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “What are we going to do?”
“Tomorrow we go and find others who want to build a new world.” Franklin wrapped her in a tight hug, leaned close, and kissed her forehead. “And then we start again.”
* * *
The Storm Rises is an introductory novella to the Solar Storms Saga. Through the Storm, book one in the Solar Storms Saga, is available here on Amazon. Click here to learn more about my other books.
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Kyle
Through the Storm (The Solar Storms Saga, Book 1)
Neal Evans is in Nevada when he hears that an immense coronal mass ejection will soon slam into the Earth’s magnetosphere. Will it cause only beautiful auroras to dance across the night sky or will it throw technology back a hundred years? Politicians and scientists are still debating when Neal decides to act. As night falls, Neal has ten hours to drive home before the first CME strikes.
Click here to buy on Amazon.
Through Many Fires (Strengthen What Remains, Book 1)
Terrorists smuggle a nuclear bomb into Washington, DC, and detonate it during the State of the Union Address. Army veteran and congressional staffer Caden Westmore is in nearby Bethesda, Maryland, and watches as a mushroom cloud grows over the capital. The next day, as he drives away from the still burning cit
y, he learns that another city has been destroyed, and then another. America is under siege. Panic ensues, and society starts to unravel.
Click here for all the online purchase outlets.
About the Author
Hello, and thank you for reading.
I grew up in the mountains of Colorado and attended Mesa State College in Grand Junction. When money for college ran low, I enlisted in the United States Navy. I thought I would do four years and then use my veteran’s benefits to go back to college. Life often doesn’t go as we plan it.
While serving in the navy, I wrote space opera and military science fiction stories. Both Titan Encounter and the Final Duty stories fall into that period.
My first assignment was with a United States Navy unit at the Royal Air Force base in Edzell, Scotland. Two years later, while on leave in Israel, I met Lorraine from Plymouth, Devon, England. We married the next year. Together we spent the remainder of my twenty-year naval career traveling across the United States from Virginia to Hawaii and on to Guam, Japan, and beyond.
After I retired from the military, I taught in an Alaskan Eskimo village for several years while continuing to write. My first post-apocalyptic novel, Through Many Fires, became an instant hit, rocketing onto the Kindle Science Fiction Post-Apocalyptic list and eventually making it to the number one spot. The second book in the series, A Time to Endure, appeared on several genre bestseller lists and led to the recently released third book in the series, Braving the Storms.
My books are available through all major online retailers.
Today, Lorraine and I live on a small farm in Western Washington State. You can learn more about me on my website, www.kylepratt.me.
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