Jo's eyes widened. "That's a pretty good idea." She disappeared below, and Reese grabbed the radio. He switched it to the private channel, then pressed the transmit button. "Tiberia, Intrepid—you read me?"
"Loud and clear," Byron said a moment later. "You won't believe what those cretins did to my boat!"
Reese watched the harbor open up before them and the land pull further and further away from them as they motored straight up the middle of Port Jefferson Harbor. “Well, we’re not out of it yet…keep an eye out on the starboard side, I’ll watch port. Last thing we need is for some snipers to start taking pot shots at us before we can get out of the harbor."
“Look at all that smoke back there…I think whatever you started is spreading," Byron said.
Reese turned and sure enough, the pillar of smoke had spread into a wall of black that rose up from the camp and caught the easterly winds off the Atlantic. It was an impressive sight. Reese pulled the radio back to his mouth. "Not bad for a microwave and some toilet paper…”
"Did they do anything to Intrepid? They hacked out most of the main deck over here and installed benches—cheap wooden picnic table benches! I don't know what they were thinking. They turned this thing from a pleasure cruiser into a freaking troop transport. I lost almost all the storage space in the hold and the forward cabin!"
Reese whistled. "They cut a hole in the forward decking and installed a machine gun turret over here,” he said.
Byron was silent for a second, and Reese smiled as he imagined the salty old man swearing a blue streak. "Crazy fools—now we’ll have to learn how to sail these things all over again. The balance is gonna be off—remember that when we hit the open ocean."
Reese nodded. "I was already thinking about that. I sent Jo below to find out what else they did—we’ll know in a minute."
“What's the next part of this crazy plan of yours?"
"Follow my lead, we head north.”
“North?” demanded Byron.
Reese grimaced. "Like I said, follow my lead," he said, emphasizing the last three words. He hoped that if anyone back at Camp Echo listened into their conversation, the command to head north would throw any pursuers off their trail. Reese had no intention of going north. He promised Tony they’d meet west of the camp. As soon as they cleared the headland, Reese planned to raise sail and tack west to get around the peninsula then sail south along the coast to meet Tony at a secluded spot due west of the camp, somewhere between Old Field and Stony Brook. He’d have to hoof it about four miles to reach the coast, but Tony had readily agreed—he didn’t want to spend a moment longer than necessary in the surreal camp.
In the distance gunfire echoed and crackled.
"I think the locals have had enough,” Byron commented.
"Well, I wish them luck. Intrepid out." Reese hung up the radio and focused on the wheel. They were only a few moments away from leaving the sheltered harbor and entering the open waters of Long Island sound. His skills as a sailor would be put to the test as the ungainly Intrepid prepared to meet the choppy water for the first time since her surgery.
Jo clambered up from the below deck and use both hands to keep herself steady as she mounted the steps. "I don't know how to describe what I just saw down there," she muttered.
"Try," Reese said in the growing darkness. The sky just off the starboard bow had turned from pastel orange to purple. They’d be shrouded by darkness in a matter of minutes, and he needed to know exactly what was in the boat’s belly before they hit the open water.
"Looks like they put a couple support pillars down there and anchored them to the floor and ceiling.
Reese nodded. "They needed to reinforce the decking up here to handle the extra weight of that machine gun. What else is down there?"
Jo sat on the aft bench and spread her arms over the railing. "Well, they got a couple crates full of MREs and some weird radio gear I ain't never seen. On top of that, there's several more cases of ammo down there, too."
Reese nodded. "That explains why she’s drivin’ like a wounded cow. When we get to the open water, you're going to have to hang on. I can't predict how well she’ll behave when we hit the chop."
“Ain’t gotta tell me twice."
They were both quiet for a moment. Reese focused on the hissing of the water along the hull and the low hum of the engine as Intrepid chugged her way across the harbor toward the headland.
"What's the plan now? We’re gonna go get Tony, right?" Jo asked.
Reese nodded and adjusted their course slightly as the water from the harbor mixed with Long Island Sound. "Soon as we clear the headland, we’re heading west, then south along the peninusla. I promised Tony we’d pick him up along the shore due west of Camp Echo. We’re aiming for the West Meadow Wetlands Reserve.”
Jo rose from the bench and stood next to Reese. "You guys sure planned this well. By the time we get around the corner up there and pick up Tony, it’ll be full on dark."
Reese grinned at her. "That's the idea—I didn't see any night vision gear with the National Guard guys, but that doesn't mean they don't have it. I'd rather get out here, pick him up and skedaddle before they know what hit them."
"About that…” Jo said, “what are we planning on doing once we pick him up?"
Reese shrugged. "Well, I've been thinking about that, but Byron and I haven't had time to plot a course. Way I see it, we got two options," he said. "One, we continue heading back the way we came—we run northeast, right up Long Island to the tip. We can circle around, and head south into the open Atlantic from there before we angle back toward the coast. That's the safe way."
Jo hugged herself and braced her legs shoulder-width apart on the gently vibrating deck. "And the other way?" she asked. "I have to tell you, I'm not a big fan of heading out into the open water. I prefer big sky and open land, if you know what I mean."
Reese snorted. "Spoken like a true Texan." He took a deep breath and exhaled. The water grew more choppy, and his hands gripped the wheel tight to keep them on a steady course. "Option two, we pick up Tony then head southwest and follow Long Island until we come to New York City."
"Ugh," Jo complained. "Why on earth would we want to go there? I have to imagine as bad as we've seen things in Boston, here, and Maine, it's gotta be ten times worse in New York City."
Reese grimaced. "Well, for starters, there's bound to be survivors there, so if we need help or supplies, that's where we'll find them. We go out on the open ocean, and we’re totally on our own. We’ll either have to live off the food we find aboard the two boats or catch fish. At least if we stay close to the shore, there's a chance we might be able to find help." He shrugged. "If Libby needs medicine again…”
Jo shook her head. "I've got enough insulin—the doctor made sure of it—that she can make it to Baltimore, even if it takes us a couple more days. She'll make it—there’s plenty of insulation in this bag and it comes with it’s own solar charger to power a cooling element. Gotta love the toys the military plays with."
Reese nodded. "Well, that's good news. But we still have to deal with New York City if we head southwest. There's bound to be more National Guard presence that way, and who knows what the navy’s doing? It's got to be a hot mess down there." He looked at her as the boat shuddered after plowing through a wave. "I don't know about you, but after seeing that National Guard camp, I’m not exactly inclined to go looking for government assistance right now."
"Neither am I…but that open ocean can be a downright scary thought to a landlocked Texan…” Jo replied.
"Well, we'll have to worry about that after we get Tony. First things first: grab those lines over there, will you? We need to haul up the mainsail and make our turn."
Jo grunted and moved forward to pull the specified lines. It took her longer than it had Tony, but she wasn't all that bad, Reese had to admit. She had the mainsail up and tied off in only a couple minutes. Reese adjusted the tension on the lines that held the boom, and the big mainsai
l swung overhead, and the sail snapped taut as it caught the breeze, and the boat immediately began to heel.
"Okay, here we go—hang on!" Reese called out. "She's really off balance…” he said through clenched teeth as he fought the wheel.
Jo clung to the port railing. “Let's go get Tony," she said, her mouth compressed into a grim line.
Chapter 22
Lavelle Homestead
Bee’s Landing Subdivision
Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina
The deep bass rumble of an engine—a big engine—disturbed Cami's meditative state as she surveyed the remains of her late summer garden. She stood and dusted the dirt off of her hands and looked around. Mia's youngest son ran around the corner of her house and sprinted to her. "Miss Cami, Miss Cami! There's a tank coming down the road! Lookit!" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and sprinted back toward the street.
Cami put her hand on her pistol at her hip and ran through the garden gate and toward the house. Caleb was right. As Cami reached her front yard, she saw the big armored truck in the distance.
"Get back!" she called out to the kids and Mia, who stood awestruck in the flowerbeds where they'd been picking weeds to stay busy. "Everybody back inside! Go!”
Amber rushed up next to Cami on the front porch a moment later. "Mom, I think everybody's inside."
"Get inside, sweetie," Cami ordered. She made sure the offering of food—mostly vegetables from the garden and a few expired bits of baking supplies—was in place, then stepped through the front door behind her daughter and shut it.
"Mom," Amber whispered as she crouched by Cami’s side. "Everybody's accounted for—I put them all in their battle stations," Amber said.
Just like earlier in the day, the big armored truck rumbled slowly forward and passed her house. The troop transport followed close behind, and a pair of soldiers got out. They were different from the ones that had been by earlier. A tall one and a short one, they made a comical pair in mis-matched gear. The tall one wore jeans and a camo coat, while the short one wore a complete uniform with tennis shoes instead of boots.
“I was right…look at these jokers. They ain’t soldiers,” Marty’s voice said from the radio at Cami’s hip.
The tall one spotted the offering on the porch and walked up her driveway as he examined the bullet holes in her house. “Anyone in the house?” he demanded in a rough voice. The short soldier broke off from the truck and followed him. Two more men hopped down from the rumbling truck and took their places in the street.
“I said, is anyone in this house?”
“Don’t answer,” warned Marty.
“I have to or they’ll kick the door down...” Cami replied.
“I’m telling you, don’t do it...”
“What do you want?” Cami yelled back. She watched the two soldiers look at each other and grin.
“Dadgum it,” Marty growled.
“Oh, this and that,” replied the soldier in the driveway. “Why don’t you open the door and let us in?”
"Ain’t no need to be afraid of us, lady,” said the other soldier, “we’re the good guys."
"Yeah," said the other soldier with a sneer. "We’re the good guys!"
“Don’t open that door,” Marty ordered.
Cami narrowed her eyes. “There's no way I’m opening that door…” she whispered back over the radio.
The soldier on the front porch pounded the butt of his rifle against the front door. "Hey! There ain't much out here for us! I know you got something else in there. You had a garden, where’s the rest of it?”
“Crap!” Amber hissed. “I knew we put too much out there…”
Cami waved her to silence. “That's all we can spare!" she replied, her voice high with fear and tension.
“They’re lyin’,” argued the second soldier. "Ain't no way somebody shot this house up for no reason. What you got in there?" he demanded.
"Nothing you're gonna want!" Cami growled through the slot in the plywood.
"Oh yeah? We’ll be the judge of that.”
The second soldier stepped forward and peered at the door. “Lady, you don't open this door, then I’ll blow it open." He stepped back and pulled what looked like a massive shotgun shell from of pouch at his waist. "You watching me? This is an M2…”
“M203,” the other soldier said helpfully.
The short soldier nodded. “As I was sayin’, it’s an M203 grenade. Either you open this door, or I'm stepping back and I'll blow the whole wall in. Your choice." He turned and muttered something to the other soldier who promptly shouldered his weapon and scooped up the cardboard box of food and supplies Cami had left on the front porch. They retreated to the far end of the driveway where the soldier with the box waved to the truck further down the street. Two more soldiers hopped off the back and walked toward her house.
“You don’t even know what the grenade’s called?” she said through the door. “You don’t look like soldiers to me.”
The short one frowned. “I know how to shoot it, does that count?”
Sweat broke out on Cami's forehead. She had to diffuse the situation and get the first two men to leave or her problems would only multiply.
The last thing she wanted was a full-on confrontation with everyone in the house. “Mitch," she whispered.
"Yeah?" he called from the hallway.
"Get everybody out of here. Leave the shotgun.”
"But—battle stations?" Amber replied. “These guys aren’t real soldiers…”
“Get to the woods—now! They have grenade launchers," Cami hissed. "We can't fight back against that! Get everybody to the woods!" She looked at Amber and put a hand to her daughter’s cheek. “Please.”
Amber nodded, her eyes glistening, and sprinted from the room. She gathered Elizabeth and the kids at the bottom of the stairs and followed Mitch to the kitchen. With a last look back at Cami, she took everyone out the back door into the yard.
Cami moved to the front door and propped Reese’s shotgun in the corner. She took a deep breath, then unlocked the door, and threw it open. "Okay okay!" she said as she threw up one hand. "Don't shoot!"
The two soldiers who’d joined the first two at the end of her driveway laughed and took the package from their comrade, then returned to the truck. The original two grinned at each other and walked forward. Both of them gave her a once over with their eyes.
Cami ignored them as her flesh rippled with goosebumps. The two men in camouflage looked less like soldiers and more like predators with every step.
The short one waved at the truck down the street. Cami heard the engine rumble as the driver of the troop transport shifted into gear and continued their march through the neighborhood.
Warning bells went off in Cami's mind. The two soldiers had voluntarily left the convoy. They assumed there were other supplies in her house, and so far, had only encountered her. Her heart rate quickened, and her hands grew slick with sweat.
"This don't have to end as bad as you’re thinking," said the tall man as he slung his rifle over his shoulder. A wide smile split his grubby face. Cami noticed the weeks-worth of beard on his face completely clashed with every clean-shaven army recruiting ad she'd ever seen on TV.
"You guys are with the real army, aren’t you?" she asked innocently.
The soldiers looked at each other and laughed. "Oh, we’re real enough," the short one said, his teeth white against his grime-covered face. His smile didn't reach his eyes, which were cruel and hard.
Cami narrowed her own eyes. She stepped fully into the doorway and brought Reese's marine shotgun up. The butt went to her shoulder in one smooth motion, and the soldiers froze, immediately spread their empty hands in the air. "That's far enough," Cami growled.
"Whoa…” the short one said, his eyes round. "Ain’t no call to be gettin’ upset…”
"Yeah, what’d we ever do to you?"
"Besides steal my supplies and threaten me?"
"I take it bac
k,” the short one said, his voice low and full of menace. “This probably will go as bad as you were thinking,”
Chapter 23
Spalding Residence
Bee’s Landing Subdivision
Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina
Darien squeezed the binoculars in his hands until his knuckles hurt. "They're back."
"Gee, you think?" Spanner said at his side. "What are we gonna do?"
"I'm sure as hell not going to let the National Guard—or whoever these posers are—come in here and take over...”
"Yeah, but should we let ‘em knock off that Lavelle woman first?" pointed out Spanner. "Saves us the trouble, don't it?"
"It does, but with her gone, the neighborhood’s gonna be that much weaker.” Darien frowned. “Everybody seems to be following her right now…she gets taken out, what you think they're going to do? They're going to fold. And that leaves us to stand alone against them,” he said with a nod out the window at the coyote brown MRAP that rumbled through the neighborhood. His hands itched to get behind the wheel of the mine resistant armored truck.
“That’s one for the bucket list…” muttered Spanner.
Darien ground his teeth in frustration. Of all the people they had to pick on first, they chose the one person in the neighborhood that he wanted to shoot himself.
"You mean you want to go help her?" asked Spanner. "After the beating she gave us?"
"To be fair, you boys did start it,” Harriet said behind them. "I know—it was at my insistence, however, she was merely defending herself."
As much as Darien hated to admit it, Harriet was right. He sighed. "No, I don't want to help her," he said in reply to Spanner. "But Harriet's right. I do have to respect her. And if my guess is right," he said, as he focused the binoculars on the two soldiers approaching Lavelle's front door, "they know she's in there, and they think they have the upper hand."
"Yeah well, they're in for a rude awakening," Spanner said. "She's got teeth, man."
Broken Tide | Book 3 | Maelstrom Page 19