by Ellis, Tara
“Aaron is going back to his uncle’s place tomorrow,” Sheriff Waters said to her, giving a small nod. “You can ride with him.”
“His uncle has agreed to let us use their property as an express station,” Caleb explained to the room. “In spite of what’s occurred, we’re going ahead with the plan. We’ll of course send several armed men with Aaron and the extra horses. We hope to establish a solid line of communication and supplies, and possibly expand our reach eventually.”
“The Pony Express?” Bishop asked.
Caleb smiled at him. “Why reinvent the wheel? It worked quite well in the past.”
Bishop smiled back in agreement. “I understand your position,” he then said, turning to Patty. “You have to do what’s best for your people. We’re a drain on supplies and have brought nothing to the table in return. I’m from Butte and my only family—my son—is stationed in Germany, so I really don’t have a reason to try and risk getting back home. I can take the kids to our Trek Thru Trouble office. We’ll figure something out from there.”
“That’s a week’s walk from here!” Sandy countered. “Anything of value or use that was there is likely already taken by now.”
“I don’t mean to marginalize your situation,” Fire Chief Martinez said, clearing his throat. “But we have some more pressing issues that also need to be discussed. How are we coming on the water?” He directed his question to Patty and she tried not to let the anxiety show on her face. “I know a lot of folks have been working hard to get it moved around to those who need it, and I’m afraid we aren’t going to be able to keep up for long.”
Patty sat back down next to Caleb and was incredibly thankful for the hand he rested on her arm. That simple touch, his show of support, lent her the strength she was lacking on her own. “Caleb has been working with Ned and Al to come up with a way to move the water more efficiently from the spring.”
“There’s no easy or quick solution,” Caleb interjected. “Not without electricity. We don’t have a strong enough working generator, or enough fuel, to get the city’s water system running again. That leaves us with physically moving it and creating an effective system, and that will take time.”
“I was the city engineer for Butte,” the man beside Sandy interjected softly while looking up from his hands.
Patty tilted her head at Bishop. “You’re a civil engineer?”
Bishop nodded. “I’ve worked on developing roads, bridges, dams, and water supplies. Pretty much any element that’s part of a city’s infrastructure. I’d be happy to go over some plans with you, Caleb, on what might work best for your situation based on where this spring is located.”
Caleb leaned in close to Patty. “I could really use his expertise.”
“I also need their help,” Sandy said loudly, still standing. She walked up to the table opposite Patty and looked pleadingly at her friend. “With Tom gone, I’m struggling. There’s too much for me to do on my own without the help of any farm equipment or running water. You put me in charge of organizing food distribution for a reason, Patty, and I’m telling you right now that I can’t do it without some help. If you want me to share my cattle, hens, and water with my neighbors, then I need ranch hands.” She looked around the room at the rest of the attendees. “Unless some you want to abandon your own places to come help me, then I’d say we’ve already been presented with the perfect solution.” Sandy gestured to the strangers behind her. “You might think it’s easier to just label all outsiders as nothing more than burdens, but I’m telling you right now, that would be a mistake. We have no way of knowing who we’ll be turning away by summarily preventing anyone access to Mercy.”
Patty thought of how they could use another doctor, or a nurse, or even someone to run messages around who didn’t already have a family in town to take care of. Her friend was right.
“Trevor was a great help at the clinic today,” Dr. Olsen added.
Patty knew what was coming and smiled. She didn’t mind being wrong about this particular decision.
Melissa looked at Trevor and raised her eyebrows questioningly. “While I wouldn’t suggest you work out on the farm, with your allergies, I could certainly use some more help in the clinic.”
Trevor was clearly pleased by the praise and Patty watched as the young man blushed and then nodded at the doctor.
Standing again, Patty took a deep breath before walking back to the whiteboard. “Chief Martinez is right that we have a lot of things to cover tonight so I’m going to be blunt. I can see now that I was wrong.” She intentionally met Sandy’s eyes and held the other woman’s gaze, hoping that their friendship wasn’t beyond repair. “I made a rushed decision out of fear, and I want this to be an example to us all as to why we can’t allow that to happen. We obviously need to protect our resources.” Patty looked to Paul then and wasn’t surprised to see he was shaking his head. “However, we can’t do it blindly. There are more resources than just food and water. Knowledge is power, and although I didn’t come up with that brilliant observation, it’s something I’ve always lived by. Sheriff Waters, we’ll go ahead with the road block, but let’s come up with a sort of vetting system.”
Sheriff Waters was hard to read as he squinted while thinking about it. “That could work,” he finally said. “Anyone approaching the barricade will be asked their intentions. If they claim to be residents, or family of residents, we’ll have them wait while checking out their claims.”
“And if they’re simply seeking refuge?” Sandy pressed.
“Then we’ll have them fill out a form and come before a panel,” Patty said. She raised a hand when several people pointed out obvious flaws with the plan. “I know it won’t be that simple. Sheriff, can you please put together some ideas as to how we can handle this?”
“Thank you,” a small voice rose over the noise.
Patty looked with surprise at Chloe. The girl had a commanding presence, in spite of her size. She reminded Patty what it meant to really survive. “We need to remember what it is we’re protecting here,” she said to everyone. “It’s a way of life, and we can’t lose our morality in the process.”
Wiping at the board, Patty erased the numbers for the second time that night. With a growing smile, she wrote 652. Turning as she snapped the cap back on the pen, she then pointed it at Chloe. “Welcome to Mercy.”
Chapter 15
GENERAL MONTGOMERY
Above Peterson Airforce Base, Colorado
“Open fire, Sergeant.”
“Sir?”
General Montgomery looked over at the sergeant beside him, not surprised by his shocked expression. They were leaning together out of the Huey, a UH-1N helicopter, hovering over the main entrance to Peterson Air Force Base. Below them was a mass of people threatening to break down the barricade that protected the base.
When they first arrived, the sight of a working helicopter had been enough to distract the mob. After they failed to drop supplies and it became apparent the bird wasn’t there to help them, the desperate horde had resumed their attempt at looting the base.
“General,” Colonel Walsh’s voice came over Andrew’s headset and he turned to look at his executive assistant, positioned in the front seat of the Huey. “General, they’re civilians.”
Colonel Walsh had recently returned from his trip to the nearby FEMA office. He’d confirmed the situation at the base after flying over it on his way back to the mountain an hour before. It was literally being overrun by people fleeing the city of Colorado Springs. The city had a population of almost half a million and the exodus of survivors was something they were unprepared for. General Montgomery already knew what would have to happen, but rather than leave the order up to anyone else, he’d opted to fly out himself.
He looked to the smoldering ruins of the city in the distance and was saddened by the destruction. A large number of fires were still burning and hundreds of useless vehicles blocked the main interstate leading both in and out. While Peterson ho
used a moderate contingent, it was nowhere near enough to take control of Colorado Springs. They’d be lucky if they could hold their own base. Even if they’d had enough working vehicles, which they didn’t, the roads were unpassable.
“You heard me, Sergeant,” Montgomery barked, ignoring Walsh. “Give me a line of fire right in front of the main gate. Keep it tight, with minimal casualties. That’s an order!” he yelled when the man hesitated.
Reluctantly, the sergeant raised his M16A2 rifle to his shoulder and released a long burst of automatic fire.
General Montgomery watched, expressionless, as eight and then a dozen people collapsed. He couldn’t hear the cries, but by the reaction of the people at the head of the mob, there was no doubt that people were screaming as they scattered.
He spoke into his voice-activated headset. “Make the announcement again.”
The pilot spoke over the helicopter’s PA system, repeating the same statement made when they had first arrived. “Martial law is in effect. The base is under lockdown and no further entry will be allowed. Return to your homes. Disperse immediately or you will be shot.”
Now that several people had, in fact, been shot, the announcement had more dramatic results. Suddenly, those nearest the fence and barricaded gate were scrambling to fall back, clashing with those still pushing forward. One more burst of random fire solidified the retreat until all that was left near the fence were the unmoving forms of those not lucky enough to get out of the way fast enough.
General Montgomery nodded in satisfaction and changed channels to talk with the commander of the base. “Lieutenant? Inform your men and women at the perimeter that the base is now locked down. Triple your presence at the armed stations. No one leaves or enters. Trespassers are to be shot.”
“Yes, sir.” The radio communication was scratchy, but clear enough for him to hear the waver in the lieutenant’s voice. “What about the bodies, sir?”
“The bodies?”
“At the gate, sir. And the wounded.”
General Montgomery motioned for the pilot to head back to the mountain as he stared down at the unmoving forms in question. Behind those were dozens more who were injured in the wake of the stampede to get away from the gunfire. The general clenched his jaw in firm resolution. “Leave them. They’ll serve as a stark reminder for those who wish to loot our base.” He switched the channel again before the lieutenant could complain and moved back to his seat next to Colonel Walsh.
Walsh removed his headset and stared at him, incredulous.
“We underestimated the situation, Kelly,” Andrew sighed, tearing his own headphones off. “It’s my fault. I should have been ahead of this. Seen it coming. We can’t afford to lose control of the base. Its infrastructure is a critical part of what’s left of our limited command. The supplies would have been wiped out in a matter of hours, and the personnel overwhelmed, even if they had the temerity to open fire without orders. It would have eventually jeopardized the mountain, and that can’t be allowed.”
Kelly looked away without responding and they rode in silence for the rest of the short five-minute ride back to Cheyenne Mountain.
General Montgomery led the way inside the bunker, his shoes clapping against the cool, stone floor. He wondered if the echo mirrored his own soul. Was he to become as cold and hard as the stone in the mountain in order to save it?
Once they had reached a point where they could speak in private, the general turned to his executive assistant, who remained abnormally quiet. “I don’t think I need to stress to you now why the FEMA caches must be secured. I know you’ve only begun to compile a list of active sites, but I want you to issue an order to them immediately.”
“To do what?” Colonel Walsh snapped, taking an uncharacteristically bold step toward him.
General Montgomery studied the other man’s face for a moment and understood then that he’d likely lost a friend. He forced himself to think of all the black tacks on his wall and it immediately tempered any remorse he might have felt. Much more than friendships would be lost in the coming days. He raised his chin, almost imperceptibly, and his jaw hardened again. “To do whatever is necessary to ensure those caches remain intact. Do I need to remind you, Colonel, that each cache is a minimum of sixty thousand pounds of supplies? Supplies that will be critical in setting up and sustaining the camps capable of housing survivors. For thousands out there, it will be their only salvation.”
Colonel Walsh didn’t back down, and continued to stare at him with something bordering on loathing. “Sir, with all due respect, we should be saving all of those people! Not killing them. You talk about our FEMA camps, but how about we start with the residents of Colorado Springs? Half a million people. Our neighbors. Women and children who only want water and food. They’re desperate!”
The general paused before answering. Not because he was unsure of how to respond, but because he needed to make sure the colonel was listening. He knew, historically, if he lost the support of his subordinates, they would ultimately fail in their mission. Humanity would fail, and that wasn’t an option. “You’re right, Colonel.” Walsh looked at him in surprise and he took the opportunity to step in even closer, so that they were mere inches apart. “You’re right. They’re desperate, and desperate people are dangerous. We’re at a critical point, Colonel Walsh. One that, if we have a future, will be noted in history. What we do in these darkest days will determine the fate of the nation. If that means sacrificing some, in order to save the many, then so be it.”
When the colonel tried to turn away, General Montgomery grabbed at his arm. It wasn’t a gentle motion and it caught the smaller man off guard. Reeling back around, Walsh staggered sideways a step and stared at the general in confusion as he spoke. “I’m counting on you, Kelly.”
Kelly made an odd sound before looking away and Andrew believed that the other man was ashamed. Ashamed at his own cowardice and the knowledge that he would never have what it took to make the hard choices. Andrew let him go then, and watched as the colonel took a step before going down to a knee, overcome by the emotional weight of what they would have to do.
“All I’m asking is that you carry out my orders.”
Kelly looked up at him then, his face ashen.
“We’ve all lost loved ones,” Andrew said, allowing some emotion to invade his voice. “We’re all grieving. Unfortunately, Colonel Walsh, we’re all the hope this country has left. We don’t get the luxury of putting our own feelings or wants first. So, stand up!”
Colonel Walsh jerked to attention.
“There are still several hours of daylight left, and if you truly want to help those people out there, then you’ll get on the radio and start issuing some orders to both our national and state reserves. You can start by deploying the cache at the Denver office, just south of Castle Rock. That’s roughly midway between them and Colorado Springs and should be logistically possible. Then, you will have a viable option to offer the survivors attempting to tear down our gates. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Walsh cleared his throat and met the general’s eyes.
While the general wasn’t sure if their friendship would remain intact, he had no doubt that the officer would carry out his orders. Watching the other man turn and walk down the long, rocky corridor, he had no regrets over how he’d handled the situation at the base. While a handful of people had unfortunately been killed, it had likely prevented hundreds of other deaths. Though hard to accept, it was a command decision that had to be made and he knew it was only the beginning.
Other sacrifices would have to be made to protect their resources. General Montgomery was willing to go to whatever extremes were necessary.
Chapter 16
RUSSELL
Northern Utah, Lakeside
Fine china clinked as Russell set his tea cup back on its saucer. He’d always enjoyed a cup of strong Canadian tea. It wasn’t the same without a splash of cream, of course, but it was still much more satisfying than plain wat
er or warm soda.
Late afternoon sunshine filtered through lace curtains, dappling the dining room table with intricate patterns. Russell watched the shadows as they moved onto the back of his hand and marveled at the peace of mind it brought him. Such a simple thing, to sit down to a real meal served on proper tableware. He’d found the set in a mahogany hutch and assumed it was normally reserved for holidays and special occasions.
“Today is a special occasion,” Russell said to the empty house, raising his tea in a solo toast. He’d come across the property at random late that morning, and was somewhat disappointed to find it vacant. He would have rather enjoyed what he imagined would have been an engaging conversation with the homeowners. Based on their choice of furniture and artwork, they were both wealthy and well-traveled.
Smoke wafted inside through the patio screen door, but it wasn’t the acrid building fires he’d had to bear over the past week. Rather, it was a sweet-smelling applewood. It had been stacked next to the smoker he’d used to cook his freshly caught trout from a nearby lake.
The fish was half-eaten now, the remnants on a china plater next to a bowl of rice. Some carrots from the garden rounded out his dinner, along with the black tea. Yes. It was a fine meal.
Standing, Russell purposefully walked through the sunlight-laden dining room and into the large family room, his steps muted by a worn oriental rug. A section of built-in bookcases housed a collection of antique toys. “Yes, I would have liked to have met you,” he said to the empty room, running his hand along the dusty shelf in front him. It was okay, though, because he had other plans for his evening. Russell smiled.
Pausing in front of an old Fisher-Price record player, Russell pulled one of the plastic records out of the front of the toy, where they were housed. It was identical to a music box he’d had as a child. He set the light blue, thick plastic record onto the turntable and wound up the red knob. His smile broadened as the “teeth” on the yellow arm clicked across the raised notes on the record, the powerless mechanism playing a halting rendition of Edelweiss. One of his favorites.