“You don’t think? That’s an understatement. Why this guy?”
“As far as I can tell, they knew each other in college. Back then, the journalist was a bit of a crusader. I’m guessing that’s why Callum reached out to him. Merryman took on tough political stories and exposed cover-ups involving politicians. Callum probably didn’t know the guy had changed.”
There were grunts and groans followed by more disgusted looks directed his way. “Did Callum tell him anything? Did Merryman know why they were meeting?”
“Callum didn’t tell him anything in the messages, only that it was important they meet in person,” he reiterated, wanting them to believe his mistake wasn’t all that bad. “I didn’t find any records of phone calls between them that lasted more than a few seconds. Callum didn’t get the chance to tell him what the meeting was about,” he said, hoping he sounded confident.
“Does this Merryman have it—the USB that punk stole from us? Did Callum pass it off?” the bearded commander asked in a gruff voice.
Ben slowly nodded. “I believe that’s a possibility. They couldn’t have been together long before I showed up. I shot them both,” he said, not admitting that he couldn’t say for sure if he’d shot the reporter, but with the spray of bullets, he felt there was no way the guy could’ve been spared.
“Where is he?” came the irritated question from another man sitting to the leader’s left.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“How the hell don’t you know?”
“He went over the side. I doubt he could have survived. The water was moving fast,” he said.
“Never doubt a man’s desire to survive, especially a man with a kid. He’s out there somewhere. If that drive gets into the wrong hands, we’ve got problems. It needs to be recovered,” his boss declared, sneering at him with disgust.
“I’ll go back,” he said. “I can start looking for the body immediately, or find him if he’s not dead. But I think he is.”
“Go back? Where? The bridge? Do you think he’s going to be hiding out underneath it? It’s been a week!” the boss snarled.
“Merryman was staying nearby. One of the messages mentioned a farm. Callum told him where to meet and Merryman said it would take him about fifteen minutes to get there. I’ll go there first.”
“You didn’t check there already?” the voice boomed.
“I did, sir, I did. No one was in the camper. I took care of the farmer who was asking questions; made it look like a robbery gone bad. He won’t be warning Merryman I’m looking for him.”
The men at the table exchanged looks with one another. “This is a colossal screw-up. We have to get the drive back. We need to find that journalist.”
“I’ll find him. I’ll leave now,” Ben said, hoping they’d let him walk out of there.
They blamed him for failing to complete the mission, and it was true that Callum Barker had been his responsibility. But the guy had been smart and had managed to lose his tail for thirty minutes. By the time he’d caught up to him, it’d been too late. He had eliminated Callum, but the information that could disrupt their entire plan was out there somewhere. He only hoped it had drowned with the reporter, and that he could somehow find the jerk’s body.
“No, you’ve done enough. We need someone more reliable on this!” the leader of their faction declared, slapping a hand on the stainless-steel table.
“Who?”
“Get me Craven,” the leader growled.
“Zander?” he asked, irritated his colleague was going to get the job that should have been his.
“Yes, Alexander Craven. He’ll get this handled. We can’t have that intel getting out. I will not allow one man to ruin everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve. Phase One is complete. To stay on track, we have to get that intelligence back. If it falls into the wrong hands—” He let the sentence hang unfinished, leaving everyone to draw their own conclusions.
They all knew what would happen. They’d all go to prison for a long time, or possibly be executed for treason.
Ben turned to leave. There was no point in arguing. He knew they could decide to put a bullet between his eyes for the enormous screw-up he’d made. He’d just have to find a way to get back in their good graces. After all, he’d been a part of it from the beginning. He wanted to see it through to the end. He’d worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let someone else kick him out of the organization now—‘Zander’ or anyone else.
12
Malachi watched Savannah through the trees. She was collecting firewood for the campfire. They had been walking for several days now, and he’d thought she’d have cheered up by now, but the fact that it was so slow-going wasn’t aiding anyone’s outlook. They hadn’t encountered anything too serious, but the information they had been picking up along the way was alarming. They’d already been warned against going anywhere near Lexington. Apparently, the city had erupted into violence a couple days after the blackout. People were fleeing en masse. The stories were bad enough that the Loveridges and their companions had decided to take a wide berth around the city, adding what would probably amount to an extra day of travel.
“Malachi?”
His father’s voice had startled him, making him jump. “What?” he asked, spinning around, feeling both guilty and afraid that his dad would see what he’d been doing.
His father looked over his shoulder, sighed, and then looked back at Malachi, slowly shaking his head. “You’re tempted.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Son, it’s okay. It’s natural. Please, just be careful. I’m here if you have any questions,” he said.
“I’m sorry… I wanted to make sure she’s okay. I told her she shouldn’t go into the woods alone,” Malachi stammered.
His father smiled, patting Malachi on the shoulder. “I’ll help her. Go back and help your mom make the beds for the night.”
He nodded and headed back towards the area where they were setting up camp. His mother was on her knees, piling leaves and pine needles into small rows for them each to sleep on. The bedding wasn’t as nice as a mattress, but it provided a small barrier between them and the hard earth that would be damp after a spring rainstorm earlier in the day.
“Hey there,” she said, looking up at him.
Looking at her face, he noticed the paleness. They had little to eat, as living off the land wasn’t easy. They could grow food, but not while traveling, and they knew little about wild edibles. Gretchen, from somewhere back east, had been identifying things like dandelions and some other weeds for them to eat, but it wasn’t enough. They’d long since gone through the little food they’d taken from their camp a week ago, as well as what little had been left at the Little farm.
“Mom, I’ll do that. Rest,” he said, moving to scoop up some leaves.
“It’s fine, I can do this. You can finish building that fire ring,” she said, her voice weak.
Without bothering to argue, he moved to do her bidding. He kept glancing back, though, watching her move slowly. She was growing more lethargic. They all were.
He kept his focus on the fire then, until his dad came back into camp with Savannah, each of them carrying a pile of branches in their arms.
“Dad, we have to try hunting. We’re starving,” Malachi said.
“Son, we have no skills for hunting. None of us knows how. We don’t have tools to hunt with,” he replied.
“We have that revolver. Ken knows how to use it,” he reminded him.
Ken stepped forward, carrying more firewood. “We’ve only got a handful of bullets, and we’d go through them fast trying to hunt. It’s been years since I’ve done any hunting, so I don’t know that I could vouch for my shots being true. We’ve got so many mouths and so few bullets… I don’t know that it’d be worth it.”
“Maybe we could set traps,” Savannah suggested.
Jim turned to look at her. “Traps?”
“I used to watch a show, like, men surviving i
n the woods—they would use different types of traps to catch things like squirrels and birds and whatever they could get. They used wire or rope, making little nooses on trees or along the ground. Sometimes, they’d use a stick to hold up a heavy rock and, when the animal went under it, the rock would fall and kill it.”
Malachi heard his mother gasp in shock behind him, but the idea didn’t bother him—not like it might have some weeks before. He was hungry. The idea of killing didn’t appeal to him, but they had to eat.
Malachi eyed Savannah, thinking about the suggestions. “Squirrels? I was thinking of something like a deer.”
She put her hand on a hip and glared at him. “Have you seen a deer?”
He shrugged. “No.”
“Have you seen a squirrel?”
“Okay, yeah, a lot of them,” he acknowledged, frowning.
“Exactly.”
He could hear his mother snickering behind them, clearly over her initial horror at the thought of killing little woodland creatures.
“Okay, I get it, it isn’t that simple. Why don’t we try to go into that town we saw the sign for? We could pay for food,” he suggested.
“Son, nobody wants our money,” his dad said gently.
“Maybe that was only those two towns. The city we’re close to looked bigger on the map. They’re probably still taking cash. We have to try. We have to eat!” he pleaded, hunger making him cranky. He looked to his parents, begging them to hear his words.
“Jim, he’s right. We have to try. Maybe we can ask politely for handouts if they won’t take our money,” his mother said.
Malachi looked hopefully at his father. “Dad?”
It took another second, but the man agreed. “Fine, we’ll try, but it could be dangerous. People are going to be turning on those who believe in God. You heard what that last group told us. The city is chaos.”
“We won’t go into the city,” Malachi insisted. “We’ll stick to the suburbs.”
“Why would anyone turn on those who believe in God?” Savannah asked, as if it was silliest thing she had ever heard.
Jim, always the patient man, turned to her and smiled. “Because, dear, it is in times like these that the unfaithful believe God has abandoned them. They will hate those who still believe. They will mock us, and want to try and punish us. It is all written in the Bible.”
She scoffed. “The Bible predicted there was going to be a blackout? I find that hard to believe.”
Malachi froze in place, shocked by her blatant refusal to believe his father. His father, of all people! He was used to people coming to the tent meetings and being a little skeptical, but Savannah had seen what was happening. She had to realize things were terrible. It wasn’t going to get better for a long time—if ever.
Just then, they heard the crunching of leaves and twigs, and all spun to look in the direction of the sound. It was Gretchen and the others coming back with their gatherings of what could only be called weeds. Gretchen stopped, her boyfriend Tim beside her. They looked guilty.
“Jim, Tonya, I’d like to introduce you to Bonnie and Bill,” Gretchen said, stepping to the side.
Malachi stiffened when he saw a large man and woman coming through the trees. The man was probably fifty, balding and huge. He guessed he was over six feet tall and had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. The woman was a little shorter, but she was just as big. His first thought was that they had been eating well for a while.
Jim stepped in front of the family. “Hello, Bonnie. Bill,” he said, extending his hand to each of them in turn.
Malachi wasn’t quite as welcoming. They had encountered a young couple a few days before, and they hadn’t been nearly as polite as the Loveridges felt the need to be. They had looked nice enough, but when his father had attempted to talk to them, they had cursed at them and told them to get away, brandishing a semi-automatic handgun to get their message across. He was a little weary of strangers now, despite his father’s opinion that all people were good until proven otherwise. Even then, his father encouraged Malachi to see the good in all people.
Gretchen was smiling. “Bill has some beef jerky he’s offered to share with us, as well as some rice. They’d like to travel with us,” she added more hesitantly.
“Oh, really?” Jim asked, clearly pleased with the new additions.
His mother stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Tonya Loveridge, and it’s good to meet you both. This is our son, Malachi, and Savannah is traveling with us. There are others in our group who’ll return soon—we’re still setting up camp.”
Everyone shook hands and went through the general niceties.
“We’d love to have you join us,” Malachi heard his father say, and cringed.
“Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?” Malachi said in a low voice.
His father nodded. “Sure.”
“Over here,” Malachi said, separating them from the rest of the group.
“What is it, Mal?”
“Dad, is it wise to bring new people into our group? We don’t know them. They could be dangerous,” he whispered.
“Malachi, we don’t judge. We meet people we don’t know all the time. We didn’t know Gretchen or Tim or any of the other people we’re traveling with until we did. Does that make sense?” he asked.
Malachi struggled. “It does, but… Dad, things are different. What if they’re dangerous?”
Jim Loveridge put a hand on his son’s shoulder as if to ground him. “I think we have to trust God’s plan. Let’s look at the positive side of this. They brought food. You were just saying we needed food, and God delivered.”
Malachi sighed. He knew there was no arguing with his father in matters like this. His father was a faithful believer and would never turn away anyone in need. He believed in redemption for all, and loved to be the one to lead them to it. If these people wanted to join them, he’d be the first to welcome them again and again.
“Okay, but please, we have to be careful,” Malachi insisted.
“Of course, son, of course,” his father said, patting him on the shoulder as they returned to the group.
Bonnie was kneeling on the ground, unloading her backpack. Malachi’s eyes fell on the jerky then, and his stomach immediately started to rumble. It wasn’t a meal, but it was much better than the pile of dandelions he saw stacked on a piece of cardboard. He got busy building the fire ring. The sun was already setting, and he knew the chill that night would be fierce.
Savannah took over making the beds while his mother and Bonnie chatted. He got the fire going, thankful they had a lighter. He had no idea what they would do if it ran out of fuel, but that was a worry for later. He wished someone from one of those shows Savannah talked about would walk into their camp. That’s what they really needed. They needed someone who could hunt, fish, gather supplies, and protect them.
With water boiled for drinking and the rest of the group returned, they all sat around the fire while his mother distributed their meager food offerings. His father said a blessing, thanking God for the food and the new arrivals. Instead of closing his eyes, Malachi stole looks, checking out Bonnie and Bill. They had their eyes closed and their hands folded together as his father spoke to God.
“So, tell us where you’re from?” Tonya suggested once they had all finished their tiny dinners.
Bonnie looked to her husband. “We left Nashville a couple weeks ago. We figured we would head north.”
“North?” Jim asked.
Bill took over the story. “We were in Nashville when things went dark. We thought it was a blackout, something temporary. Within a few days, we had to run. Things were terrible. Our neighborhood was overrun. We heard all kinds of rumors.”
“What kind of rumors?” Malachi asked.
Bill and Bonnie exchanged a look. “There’s chaos in Washington, or what’s left of it. The President was killed in the attack. The Vice President is supposedly hiding out in a bunker and some of the other top-ranking government official
s are in bunkers around the country. Supposedly, there’s a safe haven in Seattle. They have food, water, and shelter. We also heard Denver might be a good place to go.”
“Denver and Seattle?” Tonya asked excitedly. “Aren’t we headed in that direction?”
Bill nodded. “It’s a rumor, but it would make sense that the government would set up some kind of shelter.”
“Who’s in charge?” Jim asked.
Bill shrugged. “No one knows.”
“Isn’t there a military? Are we under attack?” Tonya asked.
“I don’t think anyone knows. It does sound like this is a widespread problem. It isn’t isolated to any one city. We thought it was just Nashville. Then we ran into some people from New Orleans and they said they were headed to Mexico. We considered going that way, as well, but we’ve settled on Seattle. We visited once, and it may be cold, but there’s plenty of fishing opportunities and a lot of forest area for hunting. If there’s a shelter there, all the better.”
“That’s where you’re headed?” Malachi asked.
Bill nodded. “They have power and are taking in refugees, from what we’ve heard, but only as many as they can support. We hope to get there before they close the city to newcomers. It sounds like you’re going in that direction, so perhaps we could travel together for a while—that’s what we were thinking, anyway.”
Jim Loveridge nodded even as Savannah chimed in, “That’s a long way to go on foot.”
“It is, but what choice do we have? We might see what Denver looks like, but I like the idea of having plentiful fishing grounds, as the Pacific would offer in Seattle.”
Malachi sat back, blocking out the debate over locations that had come up. The news of the country’s turmoil was difficult to accept. Malachi had secretly been hoping they would get to Salt Lake City and discover everything was okay. He hoped the rumors were wrong. Gossip was a tool of the devil. It could all be lies. There was a small chance they could get to the city and find everything was okay. His father would tell him to have faith, if he asked.
Survive the Chaos (Small Town EMP Book 1) Page 10