by Deb Rotuno
The national forest road was surprisingly empty and free of traffic, which was both comforting and a worry at the same time. It made for easy driving and at a faster speed, but it also meant we were almost to Clear Lake, which meant we’d be on our own for who knew how long.
“How many cabins are there?” Tina asked softly from the backseat.
“Four,” I told her, starting to slow down to look for the private drive, though Derek was leading the way just fine. “My father owns one, which Millie, Josh, Leo, and Brody are taking. Derek has one, and the Norths are going to stay with him. My husband and I own one, and you can stay with us. You and Janie can take the spare room.”
“And the fourth is Grandpa Rich’s, right?” Freddie piped up.
“That’s right,” I sighed deeply, taking the narrow private road.
The other half of my family had been clear across the country when everything started. My husband and his company, including our good friend, Joel Woods, were called into Florida when the path of Hurricane Beatrice was dead-set on hitting land. Jack’s father was a former Army surgeon, as was his mother, Dottie, although she specialized in disease control. All of them had shipped out almost two months prior to go help where needed. My husband’s company had been extra security in and around the base, not to mention being there to keep the peace if things had gotten out of hand. And they had. Way out of hand. We hadn’t heard a word from them since the hurricane. A little over two months was all it had taken to destroy the world, the US government, and all we’d ever known.
Shaking my head to clear it of the last frantic conversation I’d had with Jack, I smiled in the mirror. “We’ll open up the fourth cabin if we need to, but for now, you guys can stay with Freddie and me.”
Derek’s brake lights glowed bright red in the shade of all the trees surrounding us as he pulled to the side. He jumped out of the Jeep to unlock the chained gate, pushing it wide open so we could all pull through.
I stopped beside him. “You want me to wait?”
“No, I’ll be right behind you.” He glanced up for a moment. “And we may have just enough sunlight left to actually sleep indoors tonight,” he added with a grin. “We’ll have to secure windows and doors, store food, but we should just make it by nightfall.”
“Let’s hope so,” I told him, and he patted the truck before waving me on.
The private drive wound through the woods for another mile or so but emptied out into a clearing that always made me smile, made my heart beat faster. So many memories at this place. I could imagine my husband’s face as I pulled up in front of our cabin. Jack loved it here, but even more he loved to tease me about this place. We’d made love for the first time in the small log home in front of me after he’d returned from Afghanistan. We’d been crazy in love with each other, and that hadn’t changed a bit over the course of ten years—eight of those married and seven as parents. It was this place where we knew we’d be together for the rest of our lives. He’d been about to ship out for another tour—this time to Iraq—but we knew we were it. Every time we’d come back here, he’d wear the sexiest of crooked grins, always raising an eyebrow at me.
Rubbing my face to stop the tears, I sent a silent plea to whoever would listen to send my husband—and the other members of my family—home, before opening the truck door.
We just barely got the three cabins fortified by the time night fell. Luckily, there were no interruptions with zombie packs, and the night was looking to stay clear of rain. Tina was a huge help inside my cabin. She stored the food, set up the beds, and even started a fire while the rest of us barricaded windows, sorted ammo, and parked the vehicles strategically around us. The youngest of us gathered firewood, helped Millie prepare dinner, and unloaded clothes and supplies. By the time the older woman actually fed us, the entire lot of us were exhausted; even the kids were falling asleep at the table, so Tina and I guided our sleepy ones to my cabin.
“Go brush your teeth, buddy,” I told Freddie, and when he started to complain, I shook my head. “Frederick Jackson, do not argue with me.”
Tina’s chuckle met my ears when I muttered about how much he was like Jack.
“He’s his dad made over,” I said, pointing to the framed pictures on the fireplace mantel, which were visible because of the handful of candles and a lantern.
“Oh, wow, you’re right,” she said with a soft laugh, holding up a picture of the two of us. “Handsome.”
Smiling, I nodded. Jack was truly handsome. With warm brown eyes, dark-brown hair, and a smile that could wipe away the worst of days, Jack was beautiful—inside and out. The picture she held up was from our second honeymoon, which we’d spent here for four days—the first had been spent at a hotel just before he shipped out. He’d wanted to marry me before he left, and it was fast and perfect. But the picture she was holding was of our real honeymoon. He’d come home safe from Iraq, and I’d just graduated from college with my accounting degree. It was the two of us laughing, playing, and Jack had turned the camera on us. We were hopes, dreams, and happiness incarnate.
She smiled my way, but it fell quickly when she looked back at the picture of Jack and me. “Can I ask…?”
“He’s Army, so he was sent to Florida just before Beatrice hit,” I answered softly, my chest aching.
I could tell she couldn’t quite decide what to say. I knew how it sounded. The entire world had been thrown into hell, and Jack was pretty much on the other side of the planet. He was technically at ground zero, where all this originated. I knew the odds, but I couldn’t face them just yet. My heart wouldn’t let me.
Movement caught my eye, and I saw my son standing in the doorway. Smiling his way and picking up a lantern, I shooed him into his room. “C’mon, kiddo. You’ll need some sleep. I hear a rumor that Leo’s taking you guys fishing tomorrow.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he crawled under the covers. In his hand was the scrapbook he’d been keeping for the last two months. I wasn’t sure why he had an obsession with the virus. My guess was that he’d figured out where his dad and grandparents had gone. He had to have put two and two together from the news. I didn’t have the heart to stop him.
“Can I see?” I asked, and he set it in my hands.
The meltdown of society was all right there in the headlines.
HURRICANE BEATRICE SETS COURSE FOR DISNEY WORLD
CATEGORY FIVE STORM DESTROYED MOST OF CENTRAL FLORIDA, MILITARY BASE IN CRUMBLES
REPORTS OF UNTREATABLE FLU-LIKE SYMPTOMS FROM JAPAN, GREAT BRITAIN, AND US
ALL AIR TRAVEL TEMPORARILY SHUTS DOWN TO CONTAIN VIRUS
PRESIDENT PARKER SUCCUMBS TO VIRUS, VP NOW IN COMMAND
RUMORS OF VIRUS BEING A LEAKED BIOWEAPON CAUSES UPROAR IN DC
The rest of the articles started to dwindle down, but I could see that Freddie had stashed a few things in there that were important to him—pictures, ticket stubs, Jack’s old dog tags. I trailed my finger down those, feeling the raised letters, the dents and dings in them.
Freddie settled in against me, and I wrapped an arm around him, dropping repeated kisses to the top of his head. Turning the page, my heart lodged in my throat. Somewhere, Freddie had found a copy of the poem Jack always quoted us when things looked bad, when there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. He’d quoted it to me over the phone and in letters more times than I could count when we’d been separated due to his job.
“Read it,” Freddie asked softly. “Please, Mom.”
I kissed his head again, leaving my lips there when I spoke. “Okay. The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow…”
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
&nbs
p; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! And cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
We were both quiet, absorbing the words Jack had tried so hard to instill in us, but this seemed the darkest and dreariest of times. The harshest yet.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“You think Dad’ll come?” he asked through a long, deep yawn, looking so much like Jack that my heart nearly shattered right there in the small bed of the old cabin.
Brushing his thick hair off his brow and thinking he needed a trim, I kissed his forehead, breathing in deeply the scent of little boy and grass and a slight musty scent that filled the cabin, which had been closed up for too long.
“I really hope so, kiddo.”
“He promised, right?”
Smiling a shaky smile, I nodded, kissing his forehead again, but I had to squeeze my eyes closed to fight the tears. My son would never see my fear. I had to stay strong, had to keep going, if only for him.
“That’s right; he did promise, and he’s never broken a promise to us. Ever.”
Chapter 2
JACK
Dexter Air Force Base, Florida
“WE HAVE A SECURITY BREACH, Chambers!”
“Parts of the base are already flooding…”
“We’ve lost power, and the backup generators need to be…”
“Shut this wing down! Shut it down now!”
The sounds around me sounded far away—breaking glass, alarms, gunfire. That last sound made me flinch as I tried my damnedest to come up out of the fog I was in, but pain shot through every inch of my right side. It felt like flames licking at my skin, from the inside out.
I tried to claw my way up out of blackness as familiar voices, sounds, and smells wafted all around me, but the pain was too much. Stars exploded behind my eyes, blooming into stark white, and I sank into it.
“Fever, contusions, concussion…”
“I don’t have a choice!”
“Both of them…we’re gonna lose both of them…”
The voices around me were so familiar that my heart hurt. I fought the fire, the pain, the cloud of fog in my head. There was an urgent feel around me, like I needed to get my ass up and be somewhere, but I couldn’t focus on it. My head pounded, my leg throbbed, and my chest felt like someone was sitting on it. Still, I fought it all.
“Son, you need to calm down…”
“Jack, can you hear me?”
“Give him something for the pain…”
The pain skyrocketed from my head to my feet. As quickly and as forcefully as the pain slammed into me, the feeling of tingling bliss felt like a cool blanket that started in my head as the aching calmed enough for me to let go.
“Jack, what’re you saying?”
“Listen, Shortcake. I think…I think there’s some hefty shit about to go down. This storm caused a helluva lot of panic around here. I want you safe. I need you and Freddie someplace safe.”
“Baby, you’re scaring me…”
“I know, Sara, but I need you to listen. Something tells me there’s more than just some flooding and broken windows. The higher-ups are freaking out. I need you to promise me…even if you don’t hear from me, ’cause comms are sketchy. I had a bitch of a time calling you. But you get Freddie, your dad, and Derek out of there and up to the cabins. Promise me, Shortcake!”
“I promise, Jack, but—”
“No, no…no buts, baby. Please do as I ask. I’m begging you. I’ve heard shit around here that makes me fucking nervous…”
“What about you?”
“Don’t you sweat me, Sara. I’ll get to you, no matter what. Tell me you know that.”
“I do, Jack. You know I do, but you’re too far away. And that storm…”
“Tell me you love me, Shortcake. That’s all that matters to me. If you say that, then I’ll go AWOL to get to you and Freddie.”
“Oh God…Jack, I love you. Please, please be safe.”
“I love you, too, baby. Cabins, Sara. I’ll find you there.”
“Jack, wait! You’re cutting out…”
That voice. I needed more of it. I needed it like the air I was breathing. It felt instinctual, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. And the fogginess in my brain couldn’t put a face to the voice, though all I could do was fixate on finding it.
The dream faded, and the voice was replaced with beeps and echoes. My head gave a dull throb, but at least the fire in my veins had stopped. I chased the dream, but it left me in a puff of smoke as soon as the bright lights of the room filtered in.
“Take it easy, son,” I heard to my right, but I couldn’t open my eyes just yet.
“Bright,” I rasped, trying to swallow, but my throat was too dry.
“Okay, hang on.”
The lights dimmed a little, and I was able to barely crack my eyes open. The figure beside me was blurry but felt familiar.
“Son, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I groaned, trying to reach for my face, but my arms were restricted. “What the fuck?”
I struggled against the restraints, feeling cool hands on my face. “Jackson Alan, you need to calm down now.”
I froze, panic coursing through me. “M-Mom?”
“Shh, please stay calm. You’ve been in an accident, and you needed fluids. I had to put an IV in your arm, but you kept pulling it out.”
Sagging back to the pillow behind me, I groaned in frustration. “Where am I?”
“You’re in a medical facility…” Her voice trailed off, and I tried to look her way again, but she was still blurry.
“Hospital? What the hell happened?”
“Not…” She sighed, and I felt her fingers on my wrist, only to brush my hair from my forehead. “It doesn’t matter right now where you are, but, Jack, there’s been an accident. Don’t you remember?”
She released one of my bound wrists, and I rubbed my face, shaking my head. “I remember the storm, alarms going off…” Squeezing my eyes closed, I fought the throb in my head. Finally, I was able to open my eyes all the way. When I saw my mother’s face, it shocked me. “Mom?”
She looked…exhausted, terrified, and pissed off, all at the same time. She was pale, not the vibrant woman I knew. She leaned forward, dropping a kiss to my forehead, a sob escaping her.
“I thought…for a moment there…Christ, Jack…I thought I’d lost you.”
My agitation grew by leaps and bounds because I couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember why she’d be that upset.
“Mom…Mom! Help me sit up. Tell me!”
The head of my bed raised up slowly, and I shook my head again but wrapped a weak arm around her when she hugged me. She smelled like antiseptic and sweat and smoke—no, not smoke…Gunpowder, which set me on edge. She didn’t smell like my mother, not the way I remembered.
She pulled back, swiping at her tears. “There’s so much to tell you. You’ve been out for…a while.”
“Okay, well…start with why I’m in a hospital bed. Where’s Dad? And Joel? And my company?”
My mother seemed to steel herself. “Jack, the only way for me to do this is to ask you what you remember. You know…name, rank…all that.”
I snorted weakly but nodded. “Staff Sergeant Jackson Chambers, from Sandy, Oregon.” Something about that statement made me antsy, nervous. I paused, rubbing my temple. “Why…do I feel I have someplace to be?” I muttered to myself but looked to my mother, whose brow was furrowed. “Anyway, my company was shipped to Florida…Security detail for a storm that hit. I remember the base flooded and parts of the north section collapsed, but…” I shook my head and looked up at her. “Is Dad here in the hospital? What about J
oel?”
“Joel’s in the next room. He’s…hanging in there. He’ll be okay, but it was touch and go for a bit. But, sweetheart, the rest of your company…they didn’t make it. There was an incident.”
“I know. The storm.”
“No, son. After the storm.”
I stared at her for a moment and then shook my head. “I don’t know!” I rubbed my face with my left hand, letting it fall to my lap. My fingers balled up into a fist on my thigh, the gold ring on my finger glinting in the dim light. My heart hurt, my chest felt tight, and I opened my hand to look closer, my thumb running over it on the inside as my dream echoed in my head.
“Oh God…Jack, I love you. Please, please be safe.”
“I love you, too, baby. Cabins, Sara. I’ll find you there.”
My breathing picked up. “Mom…Where’s Sara? And Freddie? Do they know?”
My mother inhaled sharply, but she didn’t answer me right away.
“Yes? No?” I rubbed my temple, squeezing my eyes closed tightly for a second or two. “I thought I heard her, but had to have been a dream…” Glancing around, I looked for a phone. “I need to call her, let her know I’m okay. Where’s my cell phone?”
Mom placed her hand on top of mine, saying, “It won’t work, sweetheart. Communication is down everywhere.”
“What? The storm?”
She flinched but nodded. “The storm caused a huge chain of events, Jack.”
My temper flared out of my control. “Jesus Christ, Mom! Would you stop talking in riddles? Tell me what the fuck is going on! Is the storm over?”
She flinched but turned when my door opened. My dad strolled in, not looking any better than my mother.
“Jackson, you need to calm the hell down before you hurt yourself.”
“Dad, tell me…And while you’re at it, tell me why I can’t think straight and why I can remember some shit and not others,” I snapped, reaching across my body to pull at the Velcro on my right wrist. “And while you’re doing that, get all this shit off me!”