by Lopez, Rob
He shuffled back to where Lauren had been covering him and collapsed behind a wall, listening to the mucus bubbling in his lungs.
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” said Lauren, her voice a mixture of anger and concern.
“I had to try.”
“You need to rest now. As soon as we get back, you’re to check in to the sick bay again and get some rest.”
Rick didn’t argue. Putting his arm out for Lauren to get hold of, he hauled himself up, and the two made their slow way back.
*
Rick didn’t do much else for the rest of the day. While the others busied themselves with preparations for the defense of the clubhouse, Rick alternated between napping and thinking strategically about the problem. By the time of the evening meal, he’d scribbled some notes and drawn a rough map that he laid down on the table as they ate.
“You’ve all heard the news,” he said, feeling a little better for the rest. “Before I begin, I want to emphasize to everyone that the dangers I’ll be discussing are all speculation. We don’t know what the actual danger is – no idea about this alleged group or even whether they’ll show up. Best thing to do, however, is to plan for the worst and hope for the best. The first question is, do we stay here? I’m of the opinion that we should. We’re in a strong position, and we don’t know what else is out there. There’s only so much food we can carry, Janice can’t easily be moved, and we’re just as likely to encounter raiders and scavengers elsewhere as we are here. Moving from place to place in this weather carries its own risks, and there’s nowhere to hide. This was the conclusion that brought us here in the first place, and it was still the right decision, in my opinion. I do propose a bug-out option if the clubhouse becomes untenable, but that’s a last resort. Any questions so far?”
Nobody spoke. Chances were, they’d been thinking about and discussing the situation throughout the day, and they’d reached a consensus of sorts. They just needed to hear what the plan was.
“Okay. The first thing we need to do is bring everything inside. The meat from the smokehouse and the crops from the greenhouse. All scavenging and hunting expeditions need to end too. The only reason for anyone to be outside is for security-related matters. For our defenses, we’ve got a manpower problem. We can’t man all the defensive positions. Lauren, you’ve got the best long range rifle, so you man the rooftop post, covering an eastern arc. The shotguns we’ve got are only good for interior defense, so Harvey and April have the job of covering all the entrances, including the ones we’ve blocked. Chuck will protect the boardroom, with Sally, Janice and the children there. If we have to evacuate, Chuck and Sally will need to carry Janice. The southern and western arcs of the clubhouse are our weakest point. The apartment block just to the south, which we’ll call Block A, is just too close. The fitness building, which we’ll call Block B, is farther away, but can still provide cover to attackers. Me and Scott will cover both these areas. If we have to bug out, then the path by Block A that leads to the houses behind will be the best route. We need to keep it open. We also need to set up a suitable rendezvous location, and cache some supplies there, and everyone needs to know how to get there, in the dark if needs be. If we’re attacked at night, we’ll lose a lot of our advantages. If we’re heavily outnumbered, we have to avoid a close-range fight, because that’s not one we can win, so we need to keep attackers at arm’s length. I propose we siphon as much gas as we can to create Molotov cocktails. From the roof, these can be launched to provide a ring of flames around the clubhouse. This will illuminate targets. Now, it’s highly likely that attackers may employ the same weapon against us, so we’ll need buckets of sand in every room in case of fire. My other big concern is communications. It’ll be easy for us to become isolated, not knowing what’s happening elsewhere. This will be your responsibility, Josh. Your job is to act as a runner, collecting information from everyone and dispersing it as quickly as possible. That way we can react better to a change in plans. Finally, we need to build strongpoints within each room. If bullets come flying through the windows it won’t be enough to just lie down. We can do with some in the corridors too and near the entrances. If attackers do make it inside, we’ll need secure locations to withdraw to and fight back from. Anyone got anything they want to add?”
Chuck sighed. “This kinda paints a more graphic picture than I’d imagined. I really hope this doesn’t turn out to be necessary.”
“It’s a worst-case scenario,” said Rick. “If it’s just a small bunch of disorganized and desperate people, then we don’t need to do anything different than what we’re doing now. After a few casualties, I can’t imagine they’ll press an attack.”
“What if they try to put us under siege?” asked Scott.
“Who’s going to supply them? They’ll starve before we do.”
“What if something happens to you, Daddy?” interjected Lizzy
All eyes turned to her. Old enough to understand the discussion, but young enough to feel helpless, she looked small and bewildered, the harsh possibilities puncturing her usual optimism. Even Daniel was subdued by the somber atmosphere.
Rick looked down at his daughter. In all his military experience, preparing for the hardest fights, he’d never had to contend with having his family close by. He’d certainly never had to worry about them being in danger.
“I can’t guarantee anything, honey,” he said, pricked by a sudden sadness. “We all have to do the best we can. You understand that?”
“I’m scared, Daddy.”
“I don’t want you to worry about that. You have to be strong. We all do.”
That was all too defeatist for April. “To hell with that! Honey, we’re strong already. Anybody who tries to attack us is gonna be sorry they did. Ain’t nobody gonna lay a finger on anybody here and live to tell the tale. That’s a promise.”
36
The next day, Packy’s party arrived. Packy and Jake pushed wheelbarrows piled with supplies. Jake’s waif-like girlfriend clung to Jake’s arm and tried to hide behind him at the sight of people waiting for them outside the clubhouse. Packy’s parents were a bewildered elderly couple who looked as if they’d been plucked from some comfortable living room and deposited into the middle of a Mad Max world without warning.
“Bet you thought we wouldn’t come,” winked Packy.
Rick, grumpy from having slept badly, looked at the motley group and briefly wondered if they should have. “What have you brought?” he asked.
“This and that,” said Packy breezily. “I pride myself in knowing what my customers want.”
Rick glanced over the contents of the wheelbarrows, seeing a few boxes of 9mm and .223 ammunition, a plastic bag of shotgun cartridges, army medical packs, MREs and a box of blue grenades.
“They’re training grenades,” said Rick.
“Really? Well, good for training, right?”
“But not much else. Got any actual grenades?”
Packy winced. “Traded the green ones to Ma McGowan. Thought these were special, so I was saving them.”
Rick pondered that for a moment. “Does that mean that the raiders could have captured some grenades for themselves?”
Packy hesitated. “Well, yeah, it’s possible. I mean, anything’s possible, right? And then there’s the assault rifles – a couple of those – and, uh, the machine gun.”
“You traded them a machine gun?”
“Just a little one. Wasn’t a fifty-cal or anything.”
“Jesus,” said Scott.
Rick thought the same. That changed the tactical situation, somewhat.
“He’s a crazy loon who likes to play with fire,” exclaimed Packy’s father suddenly.
Rick looked to Packy’s parents. There wasn’t much love in their eyes when they glared at their son.
Packy was emollient. “I may be impetuous,” he said, as if mulling the possibility. “Irrational. Even lovable. But not crazy.”
“You were an impossible child! I knew you
were trouble when I took you to that psychiatrist and you firebombed his office.”
Packy gave an unapologetic shrug. “He had insurance.” He turned to Rick. “They’re wonderful people, really. We get on fine.”
Rick and Scott exchanged a glance. “Sure,” drawled Scott. “They’ll fit right in.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” said Packy’s father. “Now, if you can direct Martha and I to our rooms, we’ll settle in. We’re used to having separate rooms, I’ll have you know.”
“Is that so?” said Rick without enthusiasm.
*
“How have they survived this long?” said Scott.
He, Rick and Lauren were sat up in the rooftop OP.
“Packy’s obviously been looking after them and keeping them in the luxury to which they’re accustomed,” said Rick.
“I kind of feel sorry for Packy now,” said Lauren.
“You’re feeling sorry for him?” said Scott.
“Well, yeah. How much love can he have grown up with?”
“More than he deserved, I say.”
“That’s not our problem right now,” said Rick. “I’m worried about the capabilities of the raiders. Seems like the McGowan clan were better armed than we are, but they were still overrun.”
“That don’t mean nothing,” said Scott. “How many of the McGowans had military training?”
“More to the point,” said Rick, “how many of the raiders have had some? Think about the probability.”
“So what? You want us to bug out? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No. I don’t want to. Question is whether we ought to.”
“On the strength of the intel we’ve got so far? It’s too soon to say.”
Rick turned to his wife. “What do you think?”
Lauren shrugged. “If we move now, we’re going to be a pretty slow-moving group. And from what you’ve been saying, we’re just going to be headed to the same places as all the other refugees you’ve seen moving. Is it better to fight here? Or on the road?”
“Better not to fight at all, if we can avoid it.”
*
For the next two days, they checked and improved the fortification of the clubhouse. Every window was covered in chain-link. Sand was hauled up from the golf course bunkers to fill sandbags and buckets. Water was hauled up for stockpiling. Floorboards were pulled up from in front of the windows to impede entry. Fighting positions were built farther back in each room. Bottles were filled with gasoline and fused with cloth. There was no sign, however, that anyone was willing to come test their preparations. More snow fell, covering up the tracks, but the raiders, wherever they might be, never showed up.
Within the clubhouse, the tension made for a brittle atmosphere. Sally had nothing but spiteful words for Packy whenever she saw him, and Harvey and Jake had an argument that nearly resulted in a fight until it was broken up by Scott. Packy’s parents, Reginald and Martha, got on everyone’s nerves with their petulant whining, and had to be put in their place by Lauren’s angry words when they criticized Josh for walking around with a gun. They also complained about Bella’s presence inside when the dog barked at them in defense of Josh. The only newcomer who didn’t cause any problems was Vivian, Jake’s girlfriend, who drifted through the corridors like a ghost and generally kept away from everyone. Still weak from his illness, Rick wondered how long to keep up this state of emergency. All the time, they watched the horizon and doubled the guard at night, which, due to Rick not really trusting the newcomers, put an extra strain on those remaining. Tempers frayed as people got tired.
On the third day, the alarm cans rattled in the clubhouse. Rick ascended to the roof as swiftly as he could. Lauren was on duty.
“Caught some movement out on the edge of the greens,” she said.
Rick scanned the area with his binoculars. Nothing moved.
“Could it have been a dog?”
“It didn’t look like a dog. It’s the second time I’ve seen something, but it was gone before I could get the scope on it.”
They watched for the next half hour, the chill wind blowing in their faces.
“There,” said Lauren suddenly.
Rick turned to look and caught a glimpse of a figure by the side of a house. The figure stayed in view for only a second, then stepped out of sight.
“Is that where you saw the movement before?”
“No. Someone’s circling around.”
“They’re checking us out,” said Rick.
Everyone was put on high alert, but nothing was detected for the rest of the day. During the night the rooftop OPs were both manned, front and back, and ears were strained for the sound of approaching footsteps in the snow, but when dawn rose, everything looked exactly the same as it had the day before.
Catching some sleep in the morning, Rick was alerted again by the jangling of cans. Dragging himself up the steps again, he found Scott on duty.
“Someone’s coming,” said Scott, pointing.
A solitary figure made their hunched way over the golf course, feet dragging in the snow. Rick focused, seeing the feminine form. He couldn’t see any weapons, but at one point the hooded figure lifted her head to squint at the clubhouse.
Rick lowered his binoculars, a little confused. “It’s Dee,” he said.
37
Dee sat on the couch in the lounge, clutching a cup of hot water. She appeared distracted as she answered questions, her eyes darting over at the sandbagged enclosure in the middle of the room, at the mesh on the windows, the missing floorboards from the floor.
“You made it this far all by yourself?” asked Rick.
“Yeah. Sure,” said Dee, not meeting his eyes.
“You didn’t encounter anyone else on your way here?”
“No, nobody.”
Rick glanced across at Scott and Lauren. It had taken a few minutes for them to realize something wasn’t right.
“How did you find us, Dee?”
“I was just walking, and … this place was here. I mean, you told me about this place, right?”
“No, Dee, I didn’t tell you anything.”
“Then, I just found you. Lucky, I guess.”
Dee’s shallow breathing and hasty answers were enough to tell Rick that she was lying. If his slow brain hadn’t picked up the cues, one look at Lauren’s skeptical face was enough.
“Finish your drink,” said Rick. With a nod, he signaled Lauren to follow him out of the room.
“What do you think?” he murmured.
“She’s with them,” said Lauren with undisguised horror in her voice.
Rick didn’t need to ask who 'them’ was. “She’s being used as a scout,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“We have to keep her here,” whispered Lauren.
“A prisoner?”
“I don’t trust her, Rick. I mean, I remember Dee, how she used to be. She was so sweet. But this isn’t the same Dee. She’s … she’s lying. She’s lying so much her face is going to crack.”
Rick was torn. The coincidence between the warnings about the raiders, and Dee’s sudden appearance, were no coincidence. He felt that in his bones. On the other hand, this was Dee, Walt’s girlfriend. He’d made a promise to Walt, shortly before he died. It wasn’t meant to happen like this.
With a heavy heart, Rick walked back into the room. Taking a seat opposite Dee, he drew his pistol and held it on his knee, tapping the trigger guard.
Dee’s flinched, nearly spilling her drink.
“Where’s the baby, Dee?” said Rick.
“What … uhm, I don’t know what you mean.”
“The baby. Where is he?”
Dee’s lip began to quiver. “He … he … he didn’t make it.”
“Dee. Is he alive, or is he dead?”
“I … told you.”
“I want to hear you say he’s dead.”
A spasm crossed Dee’s face, like she was fighting with herself.
“Say the words, Dee.�
��
“I can’t,” she cried.
“Why not?”
“He’s my baby!”
“Dee. You tell me the truth or I’ll shoot you now.”
Dee broke down. “Please no! If I don’t get back, they’ll kill him.” She dropped her cup and fell to her knees on the floor. “I have to get back to him. He’s all I have.”
Rick licked his dry lips and let out the breath he’d been holding. He holstered his gun. “Who’s holding him?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“If you don’t tell me, you’re not leaving this place. Who’s holding your baby?”
Dee sobbed. “This bunch of guys. They came into the FEMA camp and took some of us prisoner.”
Rick took out a pad and pencil and began taking notes. “How many are there in the group?”
“I don’t know. The numbers keep changing. Two dozen, maybe.”
“Is there a leader?”
“This bastard who calls himself Boss. That’s the name he uses. Him and this other guy called Axel. They run everything.”
“Any military guys?”
“There were a couple, I think. I don’t know if they’re still with the group.”
Rick had her detail everything that had happened since being taken from the camp: the settlements they had raided, the tactics they had used, the current state of the group.
“How many of the prisoners are left?” he asked.
“None,” said Dee, panic creeping into her voice. “There’s only me. The others …” Dee blinked away tears. “I’m the only one they use now.”
“Where’s this group now?”
“At a big Walmart.”
Rick nodded, guessing which one.
“Can you help me get my Jacob back? I can lead you there. You can, like, surprise them. Or something.”
Rick stared at his notes, deep in thought. “Wait here a minute,” he said. He got up and held a whispered conference outside the room with Scott and Lauren.
“Can we lead a pre-emptive strike against them?” asked Scott.
Rick shook his head. “There’s too many of them. I don’t think we can rescue Dee’s baby.”