by Bobby Akart
Children of every age need to be adequately sheltered, well-fed, and entertained. This last aspect of prepping was overlooked by many. The Quinns made a habit of playing board games together once a week—Friday night game night. Whenever the family took a liking to a particular game, Susan bought one for 100 Beacon and a backup for 1PP. Lately, the game of the week was either Sorry or Chutes and Ladders. It appeared J.J. was up to the task.
“I wanna play Sorry!” exclaimed Penny. She ran to J.J.’s side as if being first in line would guarantee her choice.
“No,” protested Rebecca. “I never win. I want to play Chutes and Ladders!”
J.J. looked at the women and shrugged. Susan smiled and shrugged back.
Sabs laughed and whispered, “He’s in a pickle now.” Both women clammed up, leaving the negotiation up to J.J.
“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you guys,” started J.J. “We’ll play both games if you let me read a bedtime story to you tonight. How’s that?”
“Deal!” the girls responded in unison. They grabbed J.J. by the arm and escorted him toward the kitchen. As they walked away, the negotiations escalated.
“J.J., I want you to read us Harry Potter.”
“No, please read Charlotte’s Web again.”
“Not two nights in a row. Bad form!”
“How about Peter Pan?”
“Yeah!”
Susan laughed and leaned back on the sofa. Sabs did the same and grabbed a pillow to snuggle. After they were done laughing, Susan spoke.
“J.J. is great with the girls. He has changed so much over the last several years. I’ll never forget the first few times he came over to the house. He wanted to bring the girls a gift, but he was never quite sure of what was age appropriate. He must have gauged their reaction and studied popular gifts for young girls on the Internet. The gifts became huge hits with the girls, as did J.J. Donald and I began to wonder if he was coming to visit us or play with Becca and Penny.”
Sabs propped her right leg on the table and then crossed it with her prosthetic leg. She appeared to unconsciously tap her left leg with her prosthetic left arm. Or was it deliberate?
“The girls always appear thankful for the love and attention they are given,” said Sabs. “Material things don’t seem to rule their lives.”
“As the girls learned to speak, we taught them four words to help them learn communication skills—please, thank you, all done, and more.”
“More?”
“That is comical, isn’t it? We spend our days trying to teach them to be thankful, yet we encourage them to use the word more. However, that enabled us to teach them the meaning of the word no.”
“Makes sense,” said Sabs.
“We live in a world of selfishness and entitlement. We wanted to raise the girls to be aware of the basics they might take for granted, the opportunities they are given, and the experiences they enjoy. Believe it or not, we knew it would prepare the girls for a situation like the one we’re in now. By teaching them to appreciate the basics, they live a life of humility, generosity, and happiness. It’ll serve them well if they have to grow up in a post-apocalyptic world.”
Susan drank some of her water and listened to the playful banter coming from the kitchen. Sabs was silent for a moment, and then Susan noticed she was crying.
“Sabs, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she replied, once again tapping her left arm on her left leg. “It’s ironic that I lost my arm and leg saving children. On the one hand, it was the greatest moment of my life. On the other hand, not so much. For years afterward, while I was thankful to be alive, I held a bitterness of what I was left with. By saving those children, I thought I’d never get a chance to hold kids of my own.”
“Sabs, you did a great thing in Fallujah that day. You’re a real hero.”
Sabs continued. “Now I have J.J. in my life, and I see how much he enjoys your girls. My dream has been to find a man who loves me unconditionally like he does, and have beautiful babies with him.” Sabs began to sob now, unable to control the tears.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 56
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
7:13 a.m.
Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula
Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts
“Rise and shine with a good cup of joe,” said Abbie to J.J. and Sabs on the front porch of 1PP. They toasted their cups to Abbie.
“Good morning,” replied J.J.
“You guys look serious this morning,” said Abbie. “Everything okay?” She leaned against the railing and enjoyed a sip. If it weren’t for the circumstances, 1PP would be a very relaxing place.
“It’s fine,” replied Sabs. “J.J. is being overprotective.” Sabs finished off her coffee and stood up.
“Brad had to pull the bulk of the security detail to gather up your dad’s friends and to clean out Devens,” said J.J. “Sabs volunteered for gate duty to fill the void.” J.J. crossed his arms and stared into the woods. He was obviously upset.
“Listen. Going on patrol with the guys is routine and probably a one time thing although I am perfectly capable, you know. I will always be a soldier.”
“I get that, Sabs, but there has been more activity at the gate since the helicopter’s arrival.” Ouch.
“I’m sorry about that, J.J.,” defended Abbie. “My father said we had just enough fuel to get here, and the drive from Norwood would have been very dangerous. The south side of Boston was falling apart Saturday night. Twenty-four hours later would have been worse.”
“Please don’t get me wrong, Abbie,” said J.J., staring intently at the Sikorsky. “That chopper landing here Monday night might as well have been the rockets’ red glare. In a world with no electricity, a sound as unique as a helicopter probably drew attention from miles around. I’ve already heard that men have approached the front gate with questions.”
“Wayward hunters, J.J.,” interrupted Sabs. “Stop making Abbie feel bad.” The front porch was filled with awkward silence. J.J. shifted uneasily in his chair as Sabs got her gear together. Abbie chose to remain silent. He was right, of course.
“I’m sorry, Abbie,” said J.J. finally. “And I’m sorry to you too, Sabs. I was out of line.”
Sabs walked over to J.J. and pulled his head against her hip. She scruffed his hair like he was a child.
“I am a soldier. I have some limitations that, thanks to you, J.J., enable me to continue to be what I am—a sheepdog. Somebody has to be on the front line. I have every confidence in the people I love to take care of themselves, but none of you have ever been in combat. You may not be capable of killing another human being, whether in self-defense or otherwise.”
“What do you mean by sheepdog?” asked Abbie.
“Most Americans sleep safely in their beds at night, knowing that someone like me is willing to die for their safety, and some choose to deny there are bad people out there ready to do them harm,” replied Sabs. “The sheep pretend the wolf will never come for them. But the sheepdog lives for the opportunity to protect the sheep when that day comes.”
“I see,” said Abbie.
“I don’t mean anything negative by referring to anyone as sheep,” continued Sabs. “You can look at it as the egg of one of these beautiful woodpeckers we hear right now. Inside, it’s vulnerable and unable to protect itself. But on the outside, its shell is tough—enabling it to survive. A soldier is like that tough shell exterior.”
“It’s a dangerous world,” added Abbie.
“Then you must know the world is full of wolves,” said Sabs. “The wolves will feed on the sheep without mercy. Just like the wolves, some evil people are capable of indescribable horror to their fellow man. J.J., you’ve seen it.”
“I have.”
“Then there are the sheepdogs, like me. I live to protect my flock of sheep. I dare the wolf to confront me. That will be ingrained in me for the rest of my life.”
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br /> Sabs stood tall and proud. J.J. stood and hugged her.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tight. “Be safe.”
“I love you too, Doc.”
Gibson pulled up on a four-wheeler. “Ready to roll, del Toro?”
“Roger that, L-T.”
“I’ll see you guys later!” shouted Sabs as she bounded down the stairs to join 1st LT Gibson.
“Go tend to your flock,” mumbled J.J.
Chapter 57
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
11:23 a.m.
Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula
Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts
Susan joined Abbie in the kitchen to help prepare a lunch of white beans and fish dip. The Quabbin Reservoir was fed primarily by the Swift River. With nearly two hundred miles of shoreline and over twenty-five thousand acres of water, it was the largest freshwater lake in Massachusetts. Trout and bass were the most common fish in the reservoir and were easily caught from the shore. Donald and J.J. incorporated shore fishing as part of their morning ritual. They didn’t take out a boat to avoid drawing attention. Thus far, Steven’s fleet of specially retrofitted Stroker boats was not needed.
Susan chopped the garlic while Abbie prepared the smoked fish. Some cannellini beans, olive oil, and Wheat Thins finished off the hearty spread. The ladies made some small talk while they moved about the kitchen. The girls were off in the woods with J.J., looking for more arrowheads. Donald was monitoring communications traffic and scouring the Internet via the Hughes satellite system.
“Do you think the Brahmin will like our setup here?” asked Susan.
“They’d better,” replied Abbie. “I can’t imagine any acceptable alternative in the country right now, except maybe Texas.”
“They still have power, so I guess they dodged a bullet. Donald picked up some ham radio chatter from down that way. Governor Abbott ordered the border closed.”
“The Mexican border is already closed. Do you mean the state’s borders?”
“Yes. According to the reports, Texas Rangers have been dispatched to every major entry point and are turning people away unless they can prove residency,” replied Susan.
“Wow. I know Greg. He doesn’t mess around. Sometimes I wonder if he’s extra tough because he was a former prosecutor or because he’s a paraplegic and wants to prove his mettle. Either way, he doesn’t take any crap.”
“What do you think about him closing the border?” asked Susan.
“Technically, it’s his state to protect, but I can’t see the President standing for it.” Abbie finished unwrapping the fish and placed it into a food processor to puree. Susan added her share of the ingredients. Before they started the processor, Abbie looked around to see if they were alone.
“Susan, I’ve been having nightmares.”
Susan wiped her hands and took Abbie’s hands in hers. “Oh no. Abbie, is it about Drew?”
Abbie’s eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t know if it’s the pressure of all of this, but I’m having trouble sleeping at night. I share the bungalow with my father, and I’ve woken up more than once crying. The first night he didn’t say anything, but I can tell that I’m upsetting him.”
“Abbie, you have every right to be upset. Drew was an exceptional man, especially to you.”
“We became so close that night, Susan. We both admitted that we were in love. But there was no time to enjoy the moment. We were in a race against time, and there was one dangerous obstacle after another.”
“I know, Abbie, and I’m very sorry. The passage of time might make it better. Would it help to get you another place to sleep? With the arrival of your father’s friends, we can rearrange the bungalow assignments.”
Abbie thought for a moment and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “No, but thank you. I’ll get over it. I just keep replaying the final moments over and over again. He was reaching out to me, shouting love you, love you.” Abbie started crying again.
“At least you can hold on to those final words. He obviously loved you very much, Abbie. He saved your life.”
Susan wiped Abbie’s tears for her and gave her a long hug. Susan knew Abbie’s loss was just the first to be consoled. Abbie finally pulled away and regained her composure.
“I know, Susan. I just don’t understand why it’s bothering me so much. It’s like an endless loop of a video. I dream the same thing repeatedly. I just miss him, you know?”
“I do,” replied Susan. They both shared a nervous laugh and returned to the food processor. Susan hit the puree button that created a noise loud enough to wake the dead. So loud, in fact, they did not hear the sounds of gunfire outside.
Chapter 58
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
11:35 a.m.
Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula
Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts
“Susan! J.J.! Anybody!” yelled Donald as he came running down the stairs from the communications room. “Susan!”
Abbie and Susan ran out of the kitchen to meet Donald. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Where’s J.J.?” he shouted.
“He’s in the woods with the girls, looking for arrowheads. Are the girls okay? What is it, Donald?” Susan begged for an answer.
Donald caught his breath and steadied himself. “There’s been a shooting. It’s Sabs. She’s been shot, and it’s serious.” Abbie fell against the wall and covered her mouth.
“We need J.J. now!” he shouted.
“Abbie, get him,” said Susan. “You know the creek where they usually go, right?”
Abbie meekly nodded her head.
“Abbie! Can you get them?” yelled Donald.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” she replied and ran towards the front door.
“Come on, Susan, we need to get the room ready.” Donald began to run for the hallway leading to their version of an ER.
“Donald, wait!” Susan urgently whispered to him. “Listen to me. She’s pregnant!”
Donald stopped dead in his tracks. “Who? Abbie?”
“No, Sabs is pregnant, and J.J. doesn’t know. Nobody knows but you and me.”
“Oh my God. Susan, she’s been shot in the chest. We have to tell him.”
“No, we can’t. It will make the shock on his system worse. It’s bad enough that he has to be the one to save her.”
Donald stopped for a moment to process this. Would it make J.J. try any harder to save her life? Would it be an undue distraction? The distant sound of four-wheelers approaching 1PP shook him back into reality. “I’ll figure it out. Prepare the room for him. You remember what to do?”
“Of course. I’ve practiced with J.J. several times.”
Morgan emerged from downstairs. “Mr. Quinn, what is going on?” he asked.
“Sir, there has been a shooting at the entry gate. Sabina has been shot in the chest. I have to go.”
“What can I do to help?” Morgan asked as Donald ran for the door.
“Please continue to monitor the communications room. If there are continued signs of trouble, such as a coordinated attack, please get me.” Morgan stood for a moment and walked slowly up the stairs. Donald didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed two poufs and propped open the front doors. This can’t be happening. What do I do?
J.J. came rushing out of the south trail that led into the forest. Abbie and the girls were a moment behind him.
“Donald! What’s happened to Sabs?” asked J.J. Despite being in reasonably good shape for his age, J.J. was breathing heavily and bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Donald put his hands on his shoulders.
“They’re bringing her in,” started Donald. “Catch your breath until they get here. Abbie!” Donald went to meet Abbie and his daughters.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” asked Penny, tears of emotion streaming down her cheeks. Donald kneeled down to her level and pulled her and Rebecca close to him. What if it was my daughter who was shot? “
Come here, girls. J.J. has to help someone. I need you two to go with Abbie for a while, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” Abbie looked down at Donald and nodded her head.
“Come on, you guys,” said Abbie. “You haven’t seen my bungalow yet.” She led them behind 1PP just as Donald heard the distinctive roar of the Humvee from the front gate racing down the gravel road. He turned his attention to J.J.
“J.J., here’s what I know. Two sets of men on four-wheelers approached the front gate and began to question Sabs and Lieutenant Gibson. Things got out of hand, but the men left. Gibson called some other men to patrol the front security fencing when the men returned and tried to break through the barriers.”
“Donald, what happened to Sabs?” J.J. was frantic.
“Shots were fired, and Sabs took a bullet to the chest.”
J.J. looked dazed. “How could this happen?”
“J.J., you have to get a hold of yourself. She needs you.” The Humvee roared into the clearing and parked in front of the steps leading into 1PP. The Marines on the four-wheelers took up defensive positions. J.J. ran towards the back of the truck as Gibson emerged from the passenger side. As if a light switch had been turned on, J.J. became all business.
“What’ve we got, Gibson?” J.J. allowed two of the soldiers to slide a portable gurney out of the back gate. Sabs was covered with blood, but it appeared to have been stopped. She was barely conscious.
“Sir, she took a single GSW to the chest. Probably a .308 or Winchester .270.”
“Exit wound?”
“Couldn’t find one, sir. Single entry, which I treated with CELOX.”