“I don’t like being like this, Michelle,” Kim said. “I’m not comfortable being a worrywart or a wet blanket. I wasn’t raised that way. I was raised to be headstrong, independent, and self-sufficient.” She locked eyes with her friend. “I know we’ve yet to chat much about it, but my brother and I were raised in the same manner by the same woman. You might find some consolation in knowing that. From what we’ve gathered, your Lauren is with David. Fred and Christian have confirmed that, though no one’s really alluded as to why, but I’m sure there’s a reason. If she sticks by him, she’ll be fine. He’ll protect her like his own, rest assured, and see to it she gets home safe.”
Michelle’s expression fell flat. “If she wants to come home.”
“Stop that. Everybody wants to come home, Michelle, even Lauren. She’s a tough kid who’s had to endure a lot, but she’s no different. Right now, I imagine she’s just following a path of her choosing or perhaps one that’s calling out to her. A lot of things have happened to her since this all started, and I expect the loss of her father hasn’t helped much.”
Michelle bit her lower lip. Disappearance, you mean. “No. I suppose it hasn’t.”
Kim looked up at her, returning to her toil with a pile of unfolded clothes. “It has been over a year.”
Michelle squinted. “I’m aware of that,” she said. “I’ve counted the days.”
Her friend sent Michelle a brief look of uncertainty.
“Four hundred sixty-three. Not counting today.”
Kim’s eyes grew wide at Michelle rattling off the figure as if it were her social security number. “Has it really been that many?”
Michelle didn’t answer.
“Sorry, that was more of a reaction than a question, anyway,” Kim said. “Have you ever given any thought to…moving on, someday?”
Michelle’s eyes narrowed even further. “Moving on?”
Kim nodded. “Yes. As in finding another and opening your heart to him, and of course, allowing that person, whoever it may be, to open theirs in return.”
Michelle backed away from the table and folded her arms. “I don’t think I like where this conversation is going.”
“It’s not a comfortable topic to discuss, so that’s not surprising. But it is a valid question…between friends.”
Michelle gritted her teeth slightly. “No. The answer is no, Kim. I haven’t.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” Kim said. “I suppose it’s possible I might’ve gotten the wrong idea, then.”
“About what?”
Kim leaned onto the table again. “Look, I realize this is far from being any of my business, and I’m sorry if saying this bothers or offends you, but I could’ve sworn there for a little while that you and Norman were getting kind of…chummy.”
Michelle’s arms fell to her sides. “Chummy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Kim, Norman and I have always been chummy. But it has never once gone any further than that. He’s one of Alan’s closest friends—and it’s been that way for the better part of two decades. Both his sons have grown up around Lauren and Grace. We know each other like family. For the love of God, Alan made arrangements with them to unite with us on the off chance he wouldn’t be around if the world decided to turn to shit…and we all know how that turned out.” Michelle took a long pause. “Norman…is a decent man, dependable to a fault. He’s protective and I do, in fact, love him…platonically. But I am still very much a married woman. I’m married to my husband.”
“Like I said, I misinterpreted,” said Kim. “I got the wrong idea, and I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t’ve said anything, I just don’t like seeing you alone. I don’t like seeing anyone alone. Companionship is hard to come by, especially these days. And it’s awfully hard to replace.”
“My relationship with Alan could never be replaced,” Michelle said coldly. “Yes, he never came home to us. He’s missing and sometimes I do think the worst. But it doesn’t matter because I just can’t give up on him. If by some miracle he’s still alive, he’s still out there, I pray to God he hasn’t given up on me.” A pause. “I can’t give up on him—I’ve tried…and I just can’t do it. I’m still married to the man. Even if he were dead, I wouldn’t dare desecrate our marriage, and that makes moving on impossible for me. I don’t think I’m built that way.”
Kim smiled grimly. “That’s good to know. You’re an upright woman, Michelle. I think I like you even more now.”
“Besides, I’m pretty sure Norman has other plans in mind. I think he’s developed a bit of a liking for Kristen.”
Kim let go of the shirt she was tending to. “Pardon? Did I hear you right?”
Michelle nodded. “I probably shouldn’t say anything. I’ve never been one to gossip about other people’s business or spread rumors, but we’re friends and I haven’t endured any decent girl-talk in weeks, so why the hell not? Grace and I used to engage in it daily; it was one of our morning rituals. But lately she’s been otherwise engaged.”
“What? Grace got engaged? Christian popped the question?”
Michelle jerked her head back and forth. “No, that’s not what I said. They’re not engaged, I mean, not that I know of, anyway.” She laughed. “Bad choice of words.”
“That, or my ears need cleaning,” Kim said, laughing along with her. “Girl-talk can sometimes be inappropriate, but I’d wager it’s good for you. Look at us now, both laughing through life’s difficulties. It’s already helping us relieve some stress.” She switched to a whisper. “Now, fill me in on the Norman-Kristen affair.”
Michelle closed the distance between them. “He hasn’t been around the house as much as he used to be, and I know that’s attributed to the temporary infirmary we erected in your basement. Like clockwork, Norman’s been here to look in on Lee every day since he’s been back, but he’s also been spending a lot of his time elsewhere.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I just know.”
“You’ve been spying on him? Michelle…”
Michelle looked embarrassed. “Not spying per se. I was worried about him. He wasn’t himself after he got back, didn’t talk much to me or anyone, and that isn’t like him. Grasping the extent of Fred’s injuries, I considered the possibility of post-traumatic stress or depression of some kind. Christian told me not to bother with him, that he was fine, but his behavior was so erratic. It was like he was purposefully hiding something from me.”
“And that’s when your investigative instincts shifted into high gear.” Kim looked at her coyly. “He’s been over to Kristen’s place, hasn’t he?”
Michelle nodded. “Norman’s been single for a really long time, and he’s always seemed contented to be. I never bothered asking him why—never pondered about his romantic interests or if he even had any. He just always seemed fine with being alone.”
Kim nodded acknowledgment. “Well, I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m repeating myself, but I don’t believe anyone is ever fully fine with being alone.”
Michelle smiled at her. “I wouldn’t disagree,” she said. “You know, Kim, after your basement tenants take their leave, I think we should do something about that. As in get together periodically, maybe even a few times daily. For some…girl-talk.”
Kim smiled genuinely. “I believe I’d like that. There’s far too much negative nonsense in the valley. Some gossip should spice things right up…and maybe help take my mind off things.”
Chapter 7
Riverton, West Virginia
Saturday, January 1st. Present day
The comms shack employed by Lazarus and his militia was a ten-minute walk outside the farm to a nearby residence, making it just over a half-hour’s trudge in the snow. The shack itself was indeed little more than a shed once used for housing gardening and farming equipment, some of which remained today. It was powered by an array of mismatched solar panels mounted to the tin roof on both of its eastward- and westward-facing slopes.
Upon arriv
al, Lazarus reached for a shop broom leaning near the doorway. PVC tubing had been attached to it with a variety of zip ties and duct tape, effectively extending the handle and lengthening its reach. He hoisted it over the shack and gruffly mumbled while sweeping a dusting of snow off the panels.
Inside, the militia leader took his seat first and gestured for Dave, Woo Tang, and Lauren to pull up a stool from a stack of dust-covered ones in the corner. Then from a table of haphazardly scattered, mostly antique, glowing radios, Lazarus took hold of a microphone and made a call. “Foxtrot-alpha-nineteen, foxtrot-alpha-nineteen, this is five-lima-echo calling. I repeat, five-lima-echo calling from maidenhead grid foxtrot-mike-zero-eight, hotel sierra. We are live from Riverton, West Virginia. That’s Germany Valley, Pendleton County. Over.” He repeated the call in similar fashion and unkeyed, allowing static to fill the speaker.
“So much for COMSEC,” Dave griped.
Lazarus rotated. “What’s that?”
“Communications security, numbnuts. Either you don’t know or don’t give a shit about it. Why not just announce our exact position down to easting and northing to anyone paying attention?”
“Should I?”
Dave cut his eyes at the militiaman. “You already did.”
Lauren ignored their banter, finding herself transfixed on the assortment of transceivers and their chattering speakers. She recollected hearing similar sounds from radios in her father’s office in times past. Scanning the room, she found a framed, well-faded amateur radio license mounted to the wall. “You’re a ham radio operator?”
Lazarus nodded while toying with some knobs. “No, not me. My pop was, though. He taught me a lot, and I know my fair share about it, but I never took the test.” He paused. “Not like it matters anymore; everybody’s a pirate operator these days.” He turned to her and posed, with the top of the mic near his lips. “Works for me, right? I know, I just have that look. Like one of those badass lead singers in a heavy metal band.”
“You look more like the bass player type to me,” Lauren mocked him. “And I’m betting your luck with women reflects it.”
“You’d be surprised,” countered Lazarus. “Most ladyfolk who encounter me find me irresistible.”
“Not this one.”
“So abrasive,” Lazarus quipped. “Damn, I swear. Every time you say something witty like that, it puts butterflies in my stomach.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Stifle it and call Neo again, or I’ll release those butterflies.”
“Your wish is my command.” Lazarus made the call and, after several minutes of waiting with no reply, did so again.
After an unnerving moment of silence, a weak signal carrying a distorted version of a familiar voice broke through the layers of static. “Five-lima-echo, this is foxtrot-alpha-nineteen returning. How do you receive this station? Over.”
Lazarus keyed the mic. “Foxtrot-alpha-nineteen, this is five-lima-echo. Rough copy, over. I repeat, rough copy. Your signal is weak and fading, but you are readable. Over.”
“Roger. Your signal is both strong and readable. Go with authentication. Sum method, please. Positions romeo, golf, and november. Over.”
“Romeo, golf, and november. Roger.” Lazarus’s attention fell upon a notebook nearby with notes scribbled in pencil on the cover. “Sum method,” he griped. “Of course.”
Lauren leaned in so she could observe the radio operator’s index finger as it traced the word Armageddon written in capital letters, each having a corresponding number beneath from one to ten.
Lazarus began counting with his fingers. “Seventeen?” He turned to the men behind him. “Seventeen, right?”
Dave and Woo Tang both nodded.
“Thought so,” Lazarus said, seemingly proud of himself, and keyed the mic. “I authenticate seventeen. I repeat, seventeen, over.”
A burst of static, then, “Confirmed. Hello again, Leper. Proceed with your traffic. Over.”
“Leper?” Lauren asked, sending a glance to a shrugging, highly apathetic Dave Graham.
Lazarus keyed the mic again. “Good morning back at you. I have two of your fellow…brethren here with me along with…” He trailed off, turning to Lauren. “Wait one.” He lowered the mic. “What’s your handle?”
Lauren tilted her head. “My handle?”
“Can’t be using your real name over the air, shnookums. Never know who’s listening.”
“I don’t have a handle.”
“Well, think one up, quick-like.”
Lauren looked to the others, uncertain.
Woo Tang looked sheepish, appearing to roll his eyes. “Orchid.”
Lauren smiled at him. “Right. Use that one.”
“What, Orchid?” Lazarus looked at her sideways. “What kind of handle is that?”
“All the same, what kind of handle is Leper?” Lauren shot back.
“A cool one. Started out as a nickname my friends gave me back in college,” Lazarus explained.
“You went to college?”
“Yepper. Got a degree in veterinary medicine from WVU, believe it or not,” Lazarus replied proudly. “Impressed?”
Lauren shook her head. “Not really. And I think your friends might’ve gotten their biblical characters mixed up.”
“What do you mean by that?” Lazarus candidly asked, though Lauren failed to tender a reply. He keyed the microphone again. “Neo, I have…Orchid here with me.”
Neo’s voice came back immediately, requesting to have Lauren speak directly to him.
Lazarus handed her the mic, and she keyed up without delay. “Neo? Hi, it’s me. It’s good to hear you…we got your message. What’s going on? Is everything okay? What did you need to tell me?”
“Affirmative, all is well here. First things first, I need to know if you’re sitting down or standing up. Over.”
“Why would he need to know that?” Lauren asked herself, her eyes darting around. “I don’t know why you’re asking, or why it even matters…but for the record, I’m sitting down. Over.”
“Good. That’s good. Because it does matter.” The static crashes and fading in and out became more persistent. “Next question is, are you alone? The topic is somewhat personal. Over.”
“Personal?” Lauren pondered what it could be. “How personal, Neo? I don’t understand. Over.”
A few seconds passed before reply. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
Lauren ruminated a moment. Neo’s methods of rationalizing were unlike most people she knew, and for him, took on a whole new meaning. He identified with radios, logic and numbers—maybe that was it. “Neo, try this for me. Assign how personal you consider it to be to a number, on a linear scale from one to ten. Over.”
Neo returned almost instantly with, “Roger that. The number is eight. Over.”
Eight out of ten. Lauren hadn’t any clue what it could be, and couldn’t fathom any reason to request Dave and Woo Tang provide her with privacy. She didn’t particularly care for her newest acquaintance, but he didn’t know her and didn’t know the least bit about her family, and this was his shed and his radios.
She was far too anxious now to think it through any further. She gave Neo the go-ahead.
“Okay, so, here goes. I was told to divulge this because you needed to know.” Static crashed through the speaker. “Grace learned a few weeks back that…” Then the signal faded and Neo’s voice fell below the noise floor.
Lauren looked frantic. “Wait…what did he say?” She keyed the mic. “Neo? Neo, come back. I didn’t copy all of that.” She unkeyed, but nothing save squelch noise exited the radio’s speaker. “He said something about Grace. Did any of you catch that?”
Lazarus began fumbling with some knobs. “It’s these damn band conditions,” he said. “They’ve been awfully funky lately. Just tell him to repeat his last, and if you still can’t copy him, tell him again. He’s a radio operator, he’ll know what to do.”
Lauren sighed loudly and keyed the mic again. “Ne
o, this is Orchid. Repeat your last. I say again, repeat your last. I didn’t hear you. Over.”
A couple of seconds later with a much weaker signal, Neo came back to her. “Roger. I say again, your sister is…” The signal then faded once more.
“This is bullshit!” Lauren went to toss the microphone, but Lazarus intercepted. “Get him back!”
“Hey! Be careful! We can’t just drive down to the nearest Radio Shack and get another one of these.” Lazarus twisted a few more knobs, then reached for an antenna selector switch. “We can try the full-wave loop. It’s not resonant on this band, but it’s a hell of a lot quieter, and who knows, maybe it’ll do us some justice today.” He keyed the mic. “Foxtrot-alpha-nineteen, this is five-lima-echo. Do you copy? How copy now? Over.”
Neo came back almost immediately. “Five-lima-echo, foxtrot-alpha-nineteen. Full copy, five over nine. Lima charlie. Strong signal. Over.”
Lazarus turned his head and made eye contact with Lauren before keying up again. “Very well. Now would you please, for the love of God, repeat your last.”
“Roger that. Orchid, are you still direct with me? Over.”
Lauren seized the mic from Lazarus. “Yes—I mean, affirmative. I copy you direct, Neo. Go…with your traffic.”
“Very well.” A pause. “Your sister, Grace, says hello and she misses you. And…she wanted me to inform you that she’s…with child. I say again, Grace is going to have a baby…”
Lauren set the mic down gently. She placed a hand to her chest and her posture slumped. “A baby,” she mumbled, exhaling slowly. “Oh my God…Grace is pregnant…”
Dave folded his arms over his chest and lowered his head, an eccentric scowl creeping across his face.
Lauren’s expression gradually filled with joy and her cheeks flushed with color. “I don’t believe this,” she cooed. “Grace is a mom…I’m going to be an aunt.”
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