Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer

  That done, she rushed back to the militia HQ and returned to Walter’s office, finding only him and the boy there. No other militia. Daxton paused gnawing on a hunk of bread and peered up at her.

  “Okay. I’m set.” Harper exhaled from all the running back and forth. “Who else are you sending with me?”

  “Daxton got here in one piece alone and unarmed.” Walter smiled. “I was half hoping you’d be able to manage this one without us needing to divert too many resources from our defense.”

  “He got lucky,” said Harper, arms folded. “Are you seriously expecting me to go alone?”

  “Sending too large a force could leave us vulnerable—”

  She leaned forward. “Are you going to explain to Madison why I didn’t come back?”

  “It’s not that dangerous,” whispered Daxton. “I only got shot at once. It’s why I fell down the hill. Had to jump off a bridge to not get shot.”

  Harper thrust her left arm out at him, eyebrows flared.

  “No, no… you’re completely right. It would be stupid to send you out alone. We have to defend each other as much as the town.” Walter shifted his jaw side to side. “At best, you’ll be gone two days since there’s no way you’re walking twenty hours nonstop.”

  “Bikes?” asked Harper.

  Walter pursed his lips. “You’re going to bring fifteen or so people back here on a couple of bikes?”

  She cringed. “Oh. Good point.

  “Hmm.” Walter raised an eyebrow. “Could send Zach along.”

  Harper furrowed her brow. “Pass. Besides, he resigned. He’s not on the militia anymore. And he’s maybe cracked.”

  “I meant that as a joke.” Walter started to laugh, but stopped, his expression concerned. “What do you mean cracked?”

  She explained her encounter with Zach earlier. “Talked him down, but he might decide to flip out again if something doesn’t work out the way he wants it to.”

  “Hmm. I’ll ask Dr. Hale to speak to him then.”

  “I’ll go,” said Logan as he walked in.

  Harper whirled. “What?” She blinked. “What are you doing here?”

  He walked up, grasped her arms at the elbows and gave her a quick kiss. “Maddie told me you were about to go on a mission or something. I was right next door at the QM’s, still working there for now.”

  “Yeah.” She poked him in the stomach. “Because you’re recovering from a gunshot and they don’t want you doing stressful stuff. Going on a mission is stressful stuff.”

  “It’s not lifting and carrying heavy crap.” Logan rubbed his side where the drain tube had been. “I feel fine. Spot’s not even tender.”

  “You’re not militia.”

  He grinned. “Exactly why Mr. Holman won’t mind me going. I wouldn’t be reducing the town’s defenses.”

  Madison walked in wearing a—for her—giant backpack.

  Harper stared. “What the f—udge are you doing here?”

  “I changed my mind. Gonna go with you, too. I can carry the food and water and stuff so you don’t have to.”

  “Absolutely not!” Harper grabbed Madison by the backpack straps and shook her. “I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

  Madison sighed. “No one’s gonna shoot a kid. Worst they’ll do is kidnap me. And if you’re gonna risk getting shot, I’m gonna risk being kidnapped.”

  “No way. You’re only ten!”

  “So’s he!” Madison pointed at Daxton.

  “I’m twelve,” said the boy.

  “Wow.” Madison blinked at him. “You’re kinda small for twelve.”

  He shrugged.

  Harper held a finger up. “Twelve year olds can’t order off the kids’ menu. He’s old enough to go. You’re not.”

  “That’s lame!” yelled Madison.

  “Lame is me going crazy trying to make sure you’re okay the whole time we’re out there.” Harper clamp-hugged her.

  “You did it before. When we had to leave the old house. I’m not scared.”

  Harper looked at Walter. “Please tell her this is a horrible idea.”

  “Sorry, kiddo. I have to agree with your big sister here. It’s not really a good idea for a little girl to go on an armed rescue mission.”

  Madison hung her head. “If I’m with her, I won’t be scared she’s not gonna come back. You might have to get into a fight, and carrying stuff is gonna slow you down. Let me carry the food and water.”

  “We’re not marching for weeks, Termite.” Harper ruffled her hair. “It’s only like twenty-five miles.”

  “Sit tight here for a bit.” Walter walked around his desk. “Going to see what kind of team I can round up for you.” He crouched eye level to Madison. “Your big sis will be back in a day. Please don’t make her worry about you, okay?”

  “Fine.” Madison sighed at the floor. “You said a kid walked alone, so I figured it would be safe.”

  “I got shot at, but they missed.” Daxton ate the last of his bread in one big bite.

  Madison gawked at him. “Why would anyone shoot at a kid?”

  His smile had way too much innocence in it. “I maybe stole some food from them when they weren’t looking.”

  “Still! Only buttheads would shoot at kids.” Madison banged her head against Harper’s chest repeatedly while saying, “Please be careful” over and over.

  “And you…” Harper stared at Logan. “I need you to stay safe. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

  Logan took her hand and stared into her eyes. “What if you get hurt? I don’t want to let that happen.”

  Oh, gawd. He really would risk his life for me. She swallowed hard, her hands shaking from emotion at the thought he’d rather die than lose her. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I am. Hopefully, Walter will let me borrow a gun or something.” Logan chuckled.

  “You ever shoot before, son?” asked Walter.

  Logan nodded. “Yeah. Not a ton, but my brother and father were both military. Took me to the range a couple times. I know my way around an AR-15 or M1 Garand if you have one of those. Or a shotgun.”

  “Sounds good.” Walter patted him on the shoulder. “Let me check on that team real quick. Daylight’s fading.” He rushed out the door.

  “Sorry for making you guys argue,” said Daxton. “But I’m really happy you’re gonna help.”

  Madison shrugged, wiping tears. “She’s like that. Loves helping people.”

  “If you really don’t want me to go, I’ll ask Cliff to do it.” Harper fussed at her sister’s hair.

  “Those morons from the airplane crash tried to attack us a couple days ago.” Madison grimaced. “I think Cliff should stay here. That way you don’t have to kill anyone if we get attacked while you’re gone.”

  “You’re sure, Termite? We don’t know how bad it is out there.”

  “Yeah. If you see bad guys out there, you could hide or run away. Here, if we get attacked, you’d have to fight. Just… please come back okay?” Madison looked down. “If you die, I’m gonna make Mila look like Lorelei-level cheerfulness.”

  Logan cringed.

  “Right. No pressure at all then.” Harper exhaled.

  26

  Ms. Tiller

  For the twenty or so minutes it took Walter to return, Madison held on to Harper.

  It didn’t feel like the same kind of desperate clinginess as before, rather like her little sister wanted to spend every possible second at her side until she had to go. Logan gave off an air of mild nervousness, but far less so than she’d seen from boys who’d approached to ask her out on a date.

  That doesn’t mean much. Some boys can handle being shot at better than saying three words to a girl.

  She figured Madison’s sudden change to wanting to go along probably came from Logan’s insistence to go along. He, at least, was eighteen and could handle a rifle. Not that she wanted her boyfriend to cross that threshold of having taken someone’s life, but better him than her little
sister. Going out there beyond the relative safety of Evergreen meant all sorts of possible dangers. The post-apocalyptic movie running in her mind had legions of face-painted crazies carting her off for horrible purposes like something out of Mad Max. That didn’t seem at all realistic. Far more likely a worst-case scenario would be a garden variety pervert, sociopath, or a group who’d kill her for her stuff. Maybe even cannibals.

  Harper closed her eyes and wished really hard that no one had become that desperate or depraved that they’d resorted to eating people.

  The ‘bad movie’ part of her brain also teased her with the idea that Daxton might be bait, sent into Evergreen to lure out a small group for ambush or abduction. He didn’t seem fidgety like a kid who tried to lie, nor apprehensive about getting underway. The Lawless used captives—like Renee—as decoys, throwing them into the line of fire. But this kid looked every bit as skinny as would fit his story of a starving settlement. Looking into his eyes also didn’t set off any red flags. He seemed genuinely worried about his mother.

  She studied the map on the wall, plotting out the best way to get to Kriley Pond. They’d go up Route 74 to Route 65, and take that to US-40 or I-70, which basically ran next to each other. From there, Route 6 looked like the only way over to 119, which would bring them up to Golden Gate Canyon Road. Seemed reasonably simple, but she still wrote down the turns on a scrap of paper just in case.

  Walter came back carrying an AR-15, which he handed to Logan along with two magazines. The weapon didn’t appear to be loaded. Logan pulled back the charging handle and peered into the chamber as soon as he took the rifle.

  Walter appeared to relax a little at seeing him check for a round in the chamber.

  Crap. Harper eyed Walter. He’s giving him permission to go.

  “Don’t I get a gun?” asked Madison with a cheesy smile.

  “Heh. Not yet, hon.” Walter patted her on the head, then looked at Harper. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Walter led them outside to meet Deacon and Lennie Horne who waited a few steps from the door. That he’d only assigned two more people disappointed her somewhat, but it definitely beat going alone, or having only Logan along for help.

  With a cowboy hat, long grey hair and a big mustache, Lennie somewhat resembled a wiry cartoon gunslinger a bit past his prime. He’d been a fairly recent addition, having ended up on the militia due to wanting to keep his M4 carbine. The bolo tie and revolvers on his hips matched the Wild West aesthetic of his hat; his light bulletproof vest in Army green plus a belt full of pouches and a small pack, not so much.

  Deacon carried an AK-47 instead of his usual pump shotgun as well as a metal baseball bat in a back sheath, like some kind of budget Conan the Barbarian. He grinned at the sight of Harper, but quirked an eyebrow at Madison exiting the building wearing a backpack.

  “Please tell me she ain’t goin’ out there,” said Deacon.

  “No. She wanted to but”—Harper brushed a hand over her sister’s head—“I asked her to stay safe. It’s going to be scary enough trying to keep an eye on Daxton.”

  The boy shrugged. “I can run pretty fast.”

  “I see that look.” Walter chuckled. “Don’t be too disappointed. Deacon’s basically a small army on his own. Anyone who’d give you trouble would probably think twice as soon as they saw him.”

  Mila’s imaginary voice said or shoot him first in the back of Harper’s mind.

  “We’re ready to go.” Lennie nodded once. “Already got water and some grub, figurin’ on a two day affair.”

  “Yeah. It’s about twenty-five miles, so the rest of today out there, tomorrow back.” Harper exhaled. “Hope they don’t decide to be dumb and refuse to relocate.”

  “I’d hate to waste a trip.” Deacon smiled.

  Daxton shook his head. “You won’t. Even if Mr. Henderson decides to be a butthead, my mom and I will come back with you.”

  “All right.” Harper looked around, taking stock.

  She had forty shells in her hip bag plus nine in the tube. Deacon’s AK appeared to have a thirty-round mag, two more on his belt. Walter gave Logan two twenty-round mags for the AR. Lennie also had a twenty-round mag in the M4, but she couldn’t tell how many spares he had in the various pouches on his belt. She also didn’t see any loose bullets for his revolvers. They had to at least be loaded or he wouldn’t bother carrying them. That Deacon had swapped the pump shotgun he usually carried for an AK made her worry a bit, though it did increase their effectiveness at longer ranges.

  Ugh. Yeah, the world is totally broken. The girl who collects faerie stuff is thinking tactically.

  In a complete moment of self-conscious embarrassment, Harper realized that she’d been on the militia longer than either man. No one had ever said anything about ranks or seniority or who would be in charge. Lennie looked like he had experience as a soldier, but equipment didn’t prove anything. Guys loved to go to the Army Navy surplus and buy stuff to be a weekend warrior. Looking the part had nothing at all to do with being capable under fire.

  Also, Deacon was basically twice her age. Lennie had to be past forty-five. She felt awkward giving orders to guys old enough to have fathered her. Still, Walter had been talking about this the whole time as though she ran the mission. It took her a moment to find the nerve to speak like she did so.

  “Okay. Everyone ready?”

  Deacon and Logan both nodded. Lennie tipped his hat.

  “Can I walk with you guys at least to the buses?” asked Madison.

  “Okay, Termite. But you really gotta promise me you’re not going to sneak after us.” Harper poked her in the nose.

  “I promise.” Madison squirmed out of the backpack and set it on the ground by the door to the militia HQ; canned goods inside rattled. “I’ll leave this here as proof.”

  Harper smiled. “I believed you when you promised, because I know you know how sad I’d be if anything happened to you.”

  “Back at’cha,” said Madison, folding her arms.

  They walked up Route 74, heading north. At the point where the militia had a barricade made of two city buses—the sniper’s guard station—Madison hugged Harper again rather fiercely, then as promised, stopped following them. She climbed up onto one of the buses to watch them walk off. Harper figured she’d probably be there for at least the next hour, and might need to be physically carried home when it got dark.

  However, her kid sister didn’t cry, melt down, or even try to guilt her out of going—all things Harper considered progress. Even before the war, Madison had been moody at the idea of her going out of state to college. She wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but she’d always been close and a little clingy.

  “Best keep yer finger off the trigger while you’re carryin’ that,” said Lennie. “Rest it along the top of the trigger housing like this.”

  Harper glanced back at the ‘old cowboy’ holding his M4 out so Logan could see his grip.

  “Okay.” Logan mimicked the hand position.

  “Got that thing on safe?” asked Lennie.

  Logan looked at the AR-15, tilting it over to check the switch. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Don’t forget that if ya need ta shoot anything.” Lennie grinned.

  “Okay, dumb ass question.” Deacon held up his AK. “Never fired one of these before. Where’s the safety?”

  Harper bit her lip. Good question. Where is the safety on one of those?

  “Right side near the back. That giant flat lever.” Lennie tapped it. “Up is safe, down is hot.”

  Deacon fussed at the AK, which clicked once, then again. “Ahh. Got it.”

  “Normally, I’d warn someone who’s never shot an AK before that it’s gonna kick more than you’re probably expecting.” Lennie looked up at him. “But I don’t think you’re gonna notice.”

  Deacon’s deep baritone laugh echoed into the woods.

  Eager to be there and back again as fast as they could move, plus wanting to spend as little time a
s possible walking at night, Harper hustled along, not quite jogging. Daxton kept up without too much effort, and didn’t appear exhausted or overly tired. She suspected he’d been sleeping in the trees where she’d found him. No way could he have enough energy to go all the way back to Kriley Pond after spending all night on the road. Then again, to help any of her siblings, she’d find a way to march for two days straight. The boy could probably do the same for his mother.

  The sun had gone slightly past its apex, bright enough to cause blinding flashes wherever the windows of various abandoned cars caught it. Most of the vehicles had rolled partially off the highway, many having crashed into trees, each other, or signs. Harper imagined people driving along in the wee hours on their way to work or wherever when the EMP flash killed the cars. Not really understanding how nukes worked, her mind created two imaginary scenarios: one in which the electromagnetic pulse left everyone confused while struggling to control their dead cars, and another in which they all saw the flash and panicked.

  They had to have seen the flash. Couldn’t be a pulse without a detonation, and the detonation would’ve been bright. None of this is melted here, so far off. She frowned at a mangled Jeep Cherokee that had veered into the oncoming lane and hit a Lexus sedan head on. People could’ve been blinded if they looked right at it.

  It didn’t take them long to reach the intersection of Route 74 and Route 65. Brown metal bus stop shelters on the corner to her right showed signs of having been temporarily used as residences, stuffed full of sleeping bags, empty cans littering the area outside. She, Madison, Cliff, and Jonathan had walked around this corner—coming in from the right—when they first arrived at Evergreen. She didn’t remember anyone being here then. Of course, she’d been so freaked out at the time, someone probably could have driven a car covered in flashing lights past her and she’d have missed it.