by Kyle Pratt
A Time to Endure
Strengthen What Remains, Book Two
By Kyle Pratt
A Time to Endure
Camden Cascade Publishing
Copyright © 2014 Kyle Pratt
ebook ISBN: 978-0-692-31758-7
Kindle Version 1.7 – January 2015
All Rights Reserved
Editor: Barbara Blakey
Cover Design: Micah Hansen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Acknowledgements
Writing is usually done alone, but creating a book is a cooperative effort.
Many authors say that their spouse is their biggest fan. My wife Lorraine most certainly is mine. This book would not exist without her support, ideas and constant encouragement.
I would also like to thank William Childress for beta-reading the manuscript
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the members of my critique group; Robert Hansen, Barbara Blakey, Carolyn Bickel, Debby Lee and Kristie Kandoll. They are more than fellow writers, they are friends and mentors. In our weekly meetings I continue to learn the writing craft.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Glossary
Also by the Author
About the Author
Chapter One
The frigid mud sucked the warmth from Caden’s body. He moved close to the blackberry bramble for concealment. This ground was drier, but the thorns slashed his skin and scratched at his camo uniform.
On either side a soldier lay watching with him. Looking through the binoculars, he saw several Humvees and soldiers on the west edge of Hansen. He was certain more were just out of sight.
He shivered. Two months ago I was promoted to Chief Foreign Policy Advisor for Senator Stevens. Now the senator is dead, the capital destroyed and I’m lying on the cold, muddy ground about to fight a battle in Washington state. Funny how things change in our lives.
With the binoculars he scanned the forces arrayed against him. “They’ve been there for hours. Why haven’t they made a move?”
The question was rhetorical, but one of the privates beside him shrugged.
As they continued to watch the convoy, the red-haired boy and girl Caden had seen often in the area strolled across the field to the stream carrying fish traps.
Caden froze.
The boy was in his late teens, the girl a year or two younger. Together they moved along the bank, and then put their traps in the water just twenty yards from the recon position. Afterwards, the two sat idly nearby looking in the direction of the trucks. Go home kids. But there was no way to communicate the message without exposing his position.
Caden pulled out his radio. “CW returning to unit.” Watching the scouts, he whispered, “Keep watch on the convoy. When they move out, alert us.” Crouching, he headed back around the corner with a silent prayer on his lips. Please God, keep those kids safe.
Chapter Two
Zach’s stomach growled as he pushed back his blankets. He turned on the lamp beside the bed and watched the steam of his breath rise into the cold air. There was no hurry. He knew that for him and his sister, Vicki, this February morning would be like all recent ones, cold and wet; a time to be endured as they labored to stave off hunger for another day.
The dawn had yet to peek over the horizon as the two teens rose from their beds and donned coats, gloves, caps and waders. Vicki stuffed the backpack with hot tea, smoked fish and other supplies as Zach gathered fish traps and nets.
“Leaving so early?” their mother asked, as she staggered into the room.
“It’s time to go,” Vicki said. “Are you okay?”
She slumped into a chair and shook her head. “I don’t feel well.”
“She’s drunk, Sis. Did Bo find more booze?”
“Don’t be disrespectful. I haven’t had anything to drink for three days now.”
Because you can’t find anything. “Good. Come on, Sis.” Zach exited the pastel blue, single-wide trailer that was their home.
The predawn glow provided enough light for Zach to lead his sister along the narrow path through the woods. He had walked this way many times, along the streams that flowed through the valley. Just visible under the canopy of cedar and fir trees were the ferns that dotted much of the forest. But this was not the lazy pastime of earlier days. He would not have gotten up so early or on such a cold morning for fun.
Since the terrorists had set off nuclear bombs in Washington D.C., Seattle and other cities, people had bought or looted everything in the stores. Food was scarce and fish were now a primary source of nourishment and barter for his family.
Zach set down the wire mesh traps at the edge of the woods and pulled the cap lower on his head. He looked back at his sister and her long red hair. She often complained about the color or frizz of it, but right now he envied her well-covered ears.
In the distance Zach heard the rhythmic mechanical clatter of vehicle engines. Gas was rare and expensive so the sound of engines demanded attention. Sometimes he saw a police car and occasionally military trucks, but rarely a private car. The rumble came from the highway at the edge of Hansen, the nearby town. He picked up the traps and continued down the path. They were headed in that direction.
The waist high grass was thick and the trees thin as the two moved along a muddy path toward the stream. Zach saw the water now, but here it ran too deep for the traps. They would continue along the bank to another location, close to the highway.
It took only minutes to reach his favorite spot. The culvert where the water flowed under the road was fifty-feet farther downstream, but despite the road being nearby the only sound was the rippling of the water and birdsong from the nearby forest.
The creek was wide, but shallow. The fish preferred a narrow, deeper channel near the bank. That was where they would place their traps. Vicki knew the spot well and, reaching it, dropped the backpack on the bank. The two waded into the cold water each holding a wire cage.
Zach pushed a pole through the wire mesh of the trap into the silt below and then gathered rocks. As they worked to secure the first snare, the roar of engines returned.
“Do you hear that?” Vicki asked.
“I’m not deaf, Sis.”
She stuck out her tongue and headed back to shore.
“Oh, very mature.” Zach frowned. At barely fifteen she was a year younger than him and, in his opinion, still very much a kid. He bent low to weigh down the second cage with a few of the stones they h
ad gathered. When the trap was secure, Zach sloshed to shore. He pulled a towel from the backpack and wiped the frigid water from his arms, and then held the warm thermos in his hands. He joined his sister in peering over the bank near the road.
The grass was low in the rocky soil along the highway and with Hansen located slightly uphill from them, he could see the road and three, maybe more, army trucks along it with smoke rising from their tailpipes. An American flag fluttered in the morning breeze. Why are they just parked there wasting gas?
Vicki slid below the bank. “We’re done here; let’s go on to the next spot.”
Zach didn’t look at her. “You go. I’ll be along in a bit. I want to see what they’re doing.”
Vicki raised her head back over the edge and watched with him for several minutes. “I’m going to set the last two traps.”
“Yeah, I’ll be along in a minute.”
As an orange sun topped the nearby hills, Zach counted more army vehicles, mostly Humvees and jeeps, parked along the highway shoulder. Nothing happened and he started to follow his sister, when a single Humvee rolled slowly down the road. He caught a glimpse of two people inside as it passed. Then he watched as it continued down the highway, around the curve, toward the lake. When he returned his gaze to the main group, dozens of fighters stood on either side of the road.
The troops moved into the field, like hunters flushing birds from bushes. These were American troops, but something told Zach to be cautious and unseen. He moved into the tall grass a few yards up the bank. He couldn’t see as much, but if he remained still in his brown waders and a green shirt, he would be difficult to detect.
A Humvee raced back from the lake. Less than a minute later, a dozen truck engines started almost at once. As the seconds ticked by he heard the troops approaching.
Grass rustled behind him. Zach turned.
Two soldiers moved from the bramble on the far side of the stream. How long had they been there? They were dressed in the same uniform as the men coming down the road, but they stayed hidden in the shadow of the thicket. One soldier looked right at him. The man crouched lower and motioned for Zach to leave. The soldier reached into the bramble for something. Zach realized it was a radio.
A shot rang out.
The soldier collapsed back into the bushes.
The other returned fire and jumped for cover.
Zach wanted to run, but his legs refused to move.
The sound of gunfire became deafening.
The boy crouched low in the grass.
Dirt and leaves flew around the surviving soldier. Then he fell hard onto the first man and their blood flowed into the stream.
As the gunfire ceased, Zach’s breathing was so loud that he feared it would reveal his position. He struggled to control it as he tried to understand the bloody spectacle just a few yards from him. Why were American soldiers shooting at other Americans?
Gun at the ready, another soldier burst from the tall grass.
Zach gasped.
Vicki appeared from nowhere and screamed.
The soldier jerked his gun in her direction.
“No,” Zach shouted. “We’re just fishing.”
The man took a deep breath. “Hide,” he commanded. “A lot of people will die today.”
Chapter Three
Grabbing his sister by the hand, Zach ran, splashing through the stream toward the culvert. As they hurried to the tunnel the current flowed faster and the waters deeper. They struggled into the darkness until they neared the middle. In the frigid waist deep flow he held his sobbing sister tightly. “Don’t cry, Sis. We’re fine.”
Zach hoped his words were true. He prayed the water and darkness would hide them from other, less merciful, soldiers. “Why did you come back?” he whispered.
Still sobbing she said, “I saw them moving through the pasture and came looking for you.” With each word her voice seemed louder. “I wanted to get you and go home.”
“Shhhh. I know,” he whispered.
“They shot those men.”
“Shhhh. Sounds echo in here. We’ll be okay,” Zach whispered. “No one shot us.”
Vicki buried her head in his shoulder as if to block out the world.
Seconds later trucks thundered overhead. With the noise, Zach felt free to move. First he wiggled his numb toes just to prove he could. They moved but the lower half of his body was stiff and cold. He shifted his weight and nearly fell. During a momentary pause in the vehicle traffic he heard gunfire, but it seemed distant. Looking through the far end of the culvert he saw a farmhouse with a barn beside it. If we could get there we’d probably be safer and warmer. Even if we hid in the barn until the soldiers leave, that would be better than here.
When the last of the trucks seemed to have passed overhead, Zach whispered to his sister, “I’m going to do a little scouting.” Cautiously he stepped toward the far end.
“No, stay here.”
“I’m just checking, I won’t go outside.” Looking out the far end he didn’t see any soldiers. Gunfire raged, but now free of the culvert echo, he determined the shooting was far off.
As he looked about, his sister came up behind him.
Returning his gaze to the farmhouse he mapped out a route in his head. They could follow the stream for a few hundred yards and then, if they stayed low, the grass would conceal them as they approached the farm. They could get close without being seen by any remaining soldiers. “Sis, we’re going to that house.”
“No…no…please, let’s stay here.” She dug her nails into his hand.
“I’ll lead.” He pried her fingers loose. Keeping low, he moved with the water and caused barely a ripple. He then hugged the bank of the stream. He imagined he was hunting a deer and needed to get closer. The soldiers might not be hunting him, but he was certainly not the hunter. His heart pounded in fear and he crouched low to hide. Every step was slow and deliberate. He wished he had his bow. That would give him some ability to defend Vicki and himself, but it was back at the house.
It seemed to take forever, but when they neared another culvert, Zach saw an opportunity to head directly toward the farmhouse. Using rocks he climbed up the bank behind a large thicket of blackberry brushes. A rutted, dirt driveway split from the main road just a few feet ahead. Grass grew high along a fence that followed it. “Sis, stay low and follow me.”
She nodded.
Confident they hadn’t been observed, he moved away from the stream with his sister close behind. As they neared the home, the grass was cut low and cover sparse. He paused and looked about. There was a barn near the house with a car parked between, but nearest to them was an old tractor. He signaled his sister to follow him.
Crouching, Zach stepped from the grass-covered fence and heard the unmistakable rack of a shotgun.
He froze.
Vicki bumped into him. “Why’d you….”
Without moving his arms, Zach slowly turned his head and his eyes focused on the barrel pointed directly at him.
The young woman who held it stood behind a car. An older man stepped from the barn. He wore a green vest with many pockets and carried a black, military-style rifle. The front door of the home opened and another young woman holding a gun said, “What have we here, Maria?”
“I’m not sure,” the other woman said. “Stand up you two and keep your hands in sight.”
Zach stood slowly.
Vicki, white as he had ever seen her, followed with her mouth agape.
The man walked toward the brother and sister. A yapping puppy followed close by his side. “Quiet Nikki.”
The dog slowed its barking.
Turning to Zach the man asked, “Were you trying to steal food? Are you hungry? Is that why you were sneaking up to our house?”
Zach was hungry. Since the first nuke attack a month ago it seemed fish was all they had to eat and not nearly enough. “No sir. We’re doing okay. We just didn’t want to be seen by the soldiers,”
The three h
olding the guns seemed to relax.
Zach took a deep breath. “They shot two men….”
Eyes wide, the woman with the shotgun demanded. “Civilians or soldiers?”
“Soldiers. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…what’s going….”
“Show me where,” Maria said.
Vicki grabbed his hand and held it tight.
“No Maria. I’m sure it’s not Caden,” the older man said.
The people huddled around the front porch discussing the pros and cons of going to find the two soldiers. Zach relaxed a bit now that the guns were not pointed at him. He turned and smiled at his sister. A hint of color had returned to her face. He looked back over his shoulder and considered making a dash into the field, but he was less afraid of the family than any soldiers who might still be there.
Returning his gaze to the three grownups, still debating what to do, he allowed his eyes to linger on the two women. The one they called Maria had dark hair and spoke like any other American, but her skin was a light golden-brown. He wasn’t sure if her ancestry was Mexican, Spanish, or maybe even Italian. The other woman had brown wavy hair and pale white skin like most people from the area. They were both young and good looking enough that he could imagine dating either one but, being pretty much grown at sixteen, he was wise enough to know that probably wouldn’t happen. Still, although he had a girlfriend, Zach’s eyes lingered on the two women.
Suddenly he noticed the older man staring straight at him. Zach cast his eyes to the ground and stuffed his adolescent dreams to the back of his brain.
Two more women appeared on the porch and joined in the discussion. One was older like the man, perhaps his wife, the other younger and clearly pregnant. How many people live here?
The man walked to the edge of the yard and then stared through binoculars toward the main road. “There’s a jeep near the intersection of Hops Road and the highway. I see three soldiers. There may be more.”
“What if it is Caden, or David, and they’re wounded?” the brown-haired woman said.
Finally, the one called Maria put up her hand in a stop gesture. “We’ve got to know for sure.”