Flashpoint Box Set, Vol. 1 | Books 1-3

by Ellis, Tara

  “Patty?”

  Caleb was talking to her, and she blinked slowly before turning to acknowledge him. He was holding a steaming cup of what she assumed was coffee, and she loved him all the more for it. “I’m okay,” she whispered, taking the mug. “I’ll be okay eventually.”

  Caleb nodded silently and stared at her while she took a sip, closing her eyes as the hot liquid burned on its way down. “How much time do you think we have?” she asked, her eyes still shut.

  “Not much.” Caleb took her free hand and gave it a squeeze. “We said sunrise, so folks will be on their way here already.”

  “Is the pastor here?” She opened her eyes then and looked out at the small cemetery, which was located on the far northern end of the town. She understood why Pastor White hadn’t helped with the burial. He was over eighty and still struggling to recover from the radiation exposure.

  “Sheriff Waters went to get him about an hour ago. They should be here any minute now.” Caleb led Patty over to the wagon parked on the narrow gravel road that wound its way through the graveyard. It was first used to haul the carefully wrapped bodies. After being bleached, it was then stacked with used tools and supplies, as well as water and some towels. “Here,” he offered her two towels, one damp and the other dry.

  The old wooden wagon was an irony in itself. Patty really looked at it for the first time as she stood there, wiping the evidence of their iniquities from her face. It used to sit at the entrance to Mercy, with the town sign leaning up against it.

  Originally used in the mines scattered through the mountains around the valley, it was in surprisingly good shape and only required some minor maintenance before hitching it up to a team. The harnesses for the horses was the greater battle, and they were fortunate to have some old-timers around who still knew how to manage it.

  “Lookout one to base.”

  Patty was startled by Tane Latu’s voice coming from Caleb’s pocket and she watched as he pulled out one of the handheld radios and spoke into it. “This is base.”

  “I’ve spotted two riders approaching the south entrance, they’re probably our Pony Express.” Tane’s voice was scratchy as if he was speaking through a very long, metal tunnel, though he was still easy to understand.

  “Copy,” Caleb answered, and then smiled at Patty.

  “Lookout one?” Patty asked, raising her eyebrows. “How far away is Tane?”

  “He’s beyond the checkpoint, near the entrance to the valley,” Caleb explained. “Close to where he set up the first repeater last night.”

  Patty’s eyes widened. “The repeater is working?” When Caleb nodded, a feeling of hope swelled in her chest. Having instant communication throughout the valley was a major achievement and would make life much easier. Something none of them took for granted anymore.

  “There’s some obvious atmospheric interference going on,” Caleb explained, gesturing to the intense sunrise spreading out over them. “But it still beats a telegraph system.”

  Patty craned her neck to take in the vibrant streaks of dark orange and pink feathering out from the sun. While beautiful, it was also disturbing. Both the sunsets and sunrises were becoming more spectacular with each passing day. The only other time Patty had seen anything remotely like it was a few years ago, during a horrible wildfire season. Except for now, although there were clearly some big fires still burning in nearby regions, there wasn’t enough smoke on the horizons to account for it. Much like the increasing northern lights, it appeared to be tied into the flashpoint and some sort of continuing phenomenon.

  “What do your government contacts have to say about it?” she asked her husband, knowing that he was in almost daily communication with one military station or another.

  Caleb placed his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. “Not much. They’ve gotten more withdrawn over the past few days and I’m lucky just to get an acknowledgement.”

  “We were right not to count on them to come swooping in to save the day, then,” Patty mused, wiping at her hands with more vigor. She could see some horses approaching and needed to finish getting cleaned up.

  “You and I both know that’s not going to happen.” Caleb rubbed at his jaw as he watched the riders approaching. They’d passed the graves and were headed towards them. “Based on what’s happening in Helena, and from what I’ve gotten from non-military contacts, it’s going to be months, maybe even years, before there’s any sort of real recovery underway. Even for our military, the simple act of moving around to help those of us left alive is a massive undertaking that will take time.”

  Patty knew he was right. In eleven days, they’d already suffered some major setbacks and they needed to get a better handle on their food and water supply. Bishop would be out of quarantine that afternoon and she was meeting with both him and Sandy. She knew her friend was working hard to keep her cattle healthy with Tom still missing, but they were going to have to start slaughtering some cows to keep everyone fed. It wasn’t a discussion she was looking forward to.

  “It’s the express riders,” Caleb muttered, causing Patty to focus on the two horses headed their way. “Why are they riding out here so hot and heavy?”

  The first of the riders kicked up dust as he reined in his mount. “Mayor Patty!” the young man blurted, not waiting to be acknowledged. “We wanted to tell you personally what we found out.”

  The second rider, a middle-aged woman, was much calmer and took the time to slide out of the saddle and brush off her jeans before addressing the mayor. “Sorry if we’re interrupting something,” the woman offered, jerking her head toward the graves. “The guys at the gate told us you’d be here, but they didn’t say anything about a funeral.”

  Patty realized that the two had left prior to the deaths and closed her eyes briefly. “We had a serious outbreak while you were gone,” she explained. “Why don’t you tell me your news first, and then I’ll tell you what’s happened.”

  Sheriff Waters approached the group and tipped his hat at Patty. “Pastor’s here, Mayor. “Got some news for us?” he asked, turning to the express riders.

  “Military’s moving a bunch of troops south of Helena,” the young man squawked, still on his horse. “People seen ’em traveling in groups and word is that they’re making some sort of FEMA camp.”

  Patty was initially excited by the report, although the woman standing in front of her seemed anything but happy about it. “What’s the catch?” she asked suspiciously, glancing back and forth between the two riders. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “We thought so too, at first,” the woman agreed, her face grim. “But then we ran into some people on our way back who’d come from the south. Said the soldiers were stopping at farms along the way and taking whatever they wanted, including horses. Even shot and killed someone who tried to stop them. Another guy we talked to last night said they took over the whole town of Monida. It’s a FEMA camp now.”

  Sheriff Waters jutted his chin toward Caleb. “You hear any chatter about this?”

  Caleb shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up. “Of course not! That’s not the sort of information I’d keep to myself. I was just telling Patty, though, that my military contacts have become much less talkative lately. I figured it was due to there not being anything to report, but maybe it’s a deliberate attempt to keep us out of the communication loop. We know that they declared martial law in the first few days, so it would be within their legal right to requisition supplies as needed.”

  “Requisition?” Patty echoed. “You mean steal!”

  Sheriff Waters crossed his arms over his chest and looked back at the growing crowd in the cemetery. “Martial law gives the federal government the freedom to do whatever’s necessary to keep the masses safe. That’s the whole point of it. But shooting a farmer trying to keep his horse? Requisitioning a whole town?”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Caleb said, and Patty knew her husband well enough to pick up on his immediate uptick in anxie
ty. “I’d like to think things are being exaggerated, but in the face of what’s happened, I can see where extreme measures would be seen as acceptable.”

  “Thank you,” Patty said, turning back to the woman. “Was there anything else?” Clearly a dismissal, the female rider shook her head and then motioned for the other rider to follow her. “I’ll meet you back at the station after the service, and fill you in on the past three days,” Patty offered.

  Once they were gone, Patty turned to the sheriff. “We should increase our numbers on the gate.”

  “Agreed, though I doubt it will do any good if a group of armed soldiers want to get inside.” Sheriff Waters stared hard at Caleb. “How much do they know about us? What did you tell them?”

  “Not much,” Caleb replied, his forehead scrunching up as he thought back over his conversations. “Mostly demographics. Population, illnesses, and our needs, rather than strengths. My hope with them from the beginning had been to get aid, so I’ve highlighted our weaknesses instead of our strengths.”

  “That’s good,” Sheriff Waters muttered, clearly thrown off by the idea of having to worry about their own government pillaging them.

  “Illnesses,” Patty repeated. When both Caleb and the sheriff looked questioningly at her, her lips formed a weak, thin smile. “Perhaps one good thing can come out of this tragedy,” she said, motioning to where the pastor was positioning himself near a left-over pile of dirt. “The next time you hear from whoever’s calling themselves our government, you make sure they know all about the outbreak here in Mercy, and that it isn’t under control.”

  Mist rose from the graveyard as the first sunlight of the day kissed the valley floor, warming the damp grass and freshly turned soil. Patty took it all in; the fragility of their lives, and how much they now relied on each other.

  She wouldn’t let anyone take Mercy away from them.

  Chapter 12

  TOM

  FEMA Shelter M3, Monida Montana

  Tom pulled the black, government-issued T-shirt over his head with halting, angry movements and then faced off with the private, who was watching to make sure he complied. Danny and Ethan were already dressed in the shirts and matching black duty pants.

  “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” the soldier sneered while stuffing Tom’s clothes into a bag.

  “I want my belongings back,” Tom barked, pointing an accusing finger at the younger man. “And it’s been over twelve hours. Why are we still here?”

  The private turned and walked out of the quarantine tent with his arms full of their clothes, not offering any answers. Tom watched him go, his frustration mounting with each step.

  “So they want to wash our stuff,” Ethan said with a shrug. He was sitting on the edge of the cot, next to Sam, and for some odd reason the black outfit made him look older than his fifteen years. “I don’t really care if I ever see that shirt again.”

  “That’s not the point,” Tom snapped back. “They’ve taken our horses, gear, and now even our clothes. Every step we get further into this, it’s that much harder to get back out.” He knew that part of his anger stemmed from the temptation to simply accept things, the way Ethan was appearing to. Tom had been in a constant battle with himself since they’d arrived. He might be coming across a little heavy-handed as a result, but he didn’t know how else to cope. While they might have been given a tent to sleep in and edible rations, there had to be a cost for it.

  Danny stood from where she’d been sitting on top of the table and so he turned to face her. “I agree,” she said, her expression hard to read. They had all looked away to offer her some privacy while changing, but the soldier watched, adding all the more to the atmosphere of their powerlessness. “They’re trying to intimidate us. Make sure we go along with things.”

  Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows from where he lay on the cot and frowned at them. “I’m already feeling better, guys. I’m good to go whenever you want to get out of here.” He tried to smother a cough unsuccessfully.

  Danny was obviously unconvinced as she put her hands on her hips and glared disapprovingly at Sam. “You should rest for at least one more day. If you push too hard you could still end up with pneumonia.”

  “A couple more days isn’t going to make a difference.” Tom crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to sound sincere. “We’re already here and it is what it is. We’ll be good little campers and then get out of here.” He made a point of looking at Ethan while he spoke, but his son pretended to be busy shuffling a deck of cards.

  The tent flap was suddenly pushed open with a flourish, allowing bright sunlight inside. Tom squinted against the glare as Specialist Pratt walked in with another man. His demeanor was markedly more professional that morning as he moved to examine Sam without so much as a look in Danny’s direction.

  “I’m Corporal Dillinger. I’m in command of Shelter M3.” Corporal Dillinger didn’t offer a hand to Tom or Danny, and the reason behind the medic’s behavior change was immediately clear. “Your quarantine is now completed and you’ll receive your tent assignments, if you’ll follow me.”

  “Tent assignments?” Danny asked, glancing at Sam as the Corporal tried to leave. “Aren’t we all in the same one?”

  “I’m moving Sam to the infirmary,” Pratt explained, not looking up from the blood pressure cuff he had wrapped around Sam’s arm. “You’re welcome to come visit him,” he added with a hint of his former slimy self.

  Tom caught up with the corporal, who was already a step outside the tent. “Maybe you can fill us in on some things,” he began, doing his best to keep his voice level as he kept pace with the man. “Nothing has been explained to us since we got here. All of our gear was taken, stuff we’ll need in order to finish our journey. And we have five horses that I’d like to check on. Make sure they’re being cared for properly.”

  Danny and Ethan emerged from the tent and stood together near the entrance. Tom noticed that Danny was squinting warily at the corporal while Ethan appeared more interested in scoping out the rest of the camp.

  Corporal Dillinger stopped to look scornfully at Tom before gesturing behind him. Tom turned and he saw that their backpacks were piled up unceremoniously in the grass near the tent. Relieved, Tom tossed Danny her bag before retrieving his, and the brief relief evaporated as he lifted it. It was obvious without even checking that the backpack was light. Unzipping the top, Tom confirmed that all but his one change of clothes and a couple of personal items had been removed. “Where’s the rest of it?” he demanded, noting that the corporal hadn’t answered his other questions.

  “Every refugee wears the same clothes, eats the same food, and is afforded the same comforts while in Shelter M3,” Dillinger said, his eyes narrowed. “Luxury items would only lead to bartering or theft and we can’t allow that to happen. I can assure you that the horses are being properly seen to. They’re a precious commodity nowadays.”

  “We aren’t refugees,” Tom countered, trying to reason with the man. He stomped back toward the corporal, tossing the nearly empty bag off to the side. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get through to your men since we got here. We’re only passing through on our way home. We appreciate your helping Sam, but we don’t need anything else. We don’t want anything else.”

  The corporal made a tsking sound and chuckled without any humor. “Says the man with nothing more than the shirt on his back.” Ignoring Tom’s reaction, he barked an order to one of two soldiers who were hovering nearby. “Escort Miss Latu to the women’s barracks.”

  “Women’s barracks!” Danny shot back, moving up next to Tom. “We want to stay together.”

  Tom saw Danny was clutching tightly to Grace’s collar, her knuckles white as she did her best to keep the retriever at her side. Danny hadn’t shown a whole lot of emotion since they’d met and he was unsettled by the fear he saw in her dark eyes. It sparked a strong desire to protect Danny that Tom wasn’t prepared for, and without really thinking about it
, he stepped in front of her. “She isn’t going anywhere without us.”

  Corporal Dillinger took a slow, measured step toward Tom so that their faces were mere inches apart. They were close to the same size and both had an air of confidence. The kind that made other men listen to them. “Are we going to have a problem, Mr. Miller?”

  Tom clenched his jaw and spoke in a voice so low that it wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I want my horses, my gear, and then my friends and I are going to walk out of here.”

  Tilting his head slightly, Corporal Dillinger grimaced before tsking again. “I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. Oh, you’re more than welcome to leave whenever you’d like. You certainly aren’t prisoners. However, on behalf of the United States government, your five horses and any equipment deemed useful has been requisitioned.”

  Tom was aware of the nearest soldier glancing nervously at his partner, and saw Danny put an arm out to stop Ethan from moving toward them. He took a second, and then a third breath to try and counter the fury welling up in his chest that threatened to overpower his thoughts…and lost the battle.

  With surprising speed, Tom dropped into a low stance. He then came up hard into the other man’s chest, lifting the corporal off his feet and slamming him down onto the ground.

  “Oomph!” Dillinger grunted as the wind was knocked from his lungs. However, it didn’t slow him down.

  Tom hadn’t even managed to land a blow to the corporal’s head before he took an elbow to the jaw from the other man. It knocked him sideways and gave Dillinger the opening he needed to shove Tom up off of his chest.

  Both men staggered to their feet, fists raised, but the larger of the two guards finally reacted and stepped in between them. Without a word, he swung the butt of his AR into Tom’s stomach.

  “Ugh!” Tom took a knee and fought against the bile rising in his throat. Sharp pain suddenly blossomed through his right shoulder then, and he grunted when the private slammed the rifle into his back for a second time. Finally falling face-first into the dirt, he saw two pairs of boots move close to his face.