Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  He set out his handguns on the bed, wondering what he should allow Sam to carry, and Jimmy, for that matter. On impulse, he set aside the .40 Smith & Wesson for Jimmy and the Glock 34 for Sam, since it had a nineteen-round magazine, saving on reloading time. He kept Nora's .45 for himself, since she preferred to carry the .380 ACP pistol that she'd also had with her when he found her in the village. There were the long guns sitting out as well, but he decided to leave them where they were for the moment, although it would be a smart idea to put them in various, easy-to-reach locations, like next to each doorway of the house and shop.

  At first, he planned to carry the guns over to the house to give to the others, but Ryan got a different idea, to keep Irene from getting worked up about her husband and son carrying guns. Pulling on his coat, he made his way from the shop to the house, amazed at how calm and still it had become. Although the thermometer registered well below zero, the lack of wind made the cold seem not so bad. He knocked on the kitchen door of the house and waited, relieved to see Jimmy's face.

  “Jimmy, get Dad and tell him that I want to talk to you two over in the shop.”

  He smiled. “Sure thing, just a sec.”

  A few moments later, Sam and Jimmy followed him back to the shop and he ushered them into the motorhome. Once Sam and Jimmy were seated at the dinette table, Ryan said, “I'll be right back.”

  He went to the bedroom and fetched the two guns and carried them to the front. Handing Jimmy the .40, he said, “That'll be your gun. Carry it with you at all times, even when you're sleeping and sitting on the throne.”

  Jimmy took the gun and stared at it with his jaw agape. Rather than wait for him to respond, he turned to Sam and handed him the Glock. “That's a good, solid nine-millimeter. Hold it with both hands, she'll shoot straight for a lot of yards.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, flipping the gun over in his hands. “Nora thinks the raiders are coming?”

  “Yes, her hackles are up, big time. She thinks with this break in the weather, they'll make their move. That's why we've started watches. She's doing the first patrol, till two AM. I'll go up second. Jimmy, you'll be on watch at oh eight hundred tomorrow morning. Sam, your turn will be two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, and it'll go back to Nora again tomorrow night.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Do you think you can keep this on the down low as long as possible, for Irene's sake?”

  Sam nodded slowly. “We'll certainly try. And you know the funny thing is, Irene just got done telling me that she's got a feeling that something bad is about to happen.”

  “Well, Nora's certainly worried, and I'm feeling it myself, come to think of it.”

  “What do you want us to do now?” Jimmy asked.

  Ryan pointed to the door of the motorhome. “I need for you guys to go back to the house, but keep alert. Jimmy, I'll see you here at eight tomorrow morning, okay?”

  * * *

  At two AM, Ryan found himself being woken up on the couch by Nora. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he said, “See anything out there?”

  She shook her head. “Nope, no sounds whatsoever. It's cold out there, so you really need to bundle up.”

  Dreading the thought of standing out there for six hours in the subzero cold, Ryan adopted a puppy-dog expression and said, “Maybe we could possibly get more sleep and pick this up at six?”

  Nora shook her head emphatically. “We can't afford to take the chance. I've done my six hours, so it's your turn. If you hear anything at all, a gunshot or a motor, you come and wake me immediately, okay?”

  With his head swaddled with two scarves, plus two sweaters and the insulated overalls and heavy winter coat on top of that, Ryan stepped outside into the bitter cold. Carrying the AR-15 over his left shoulder, he walked over to the front of the house so he could check the temperature. Doing his best not to make too much noise on the porch, he brought out his flashlight and examined the thermometer in front of him. Minus twenty-one F. That's some serious cold for mid-November. Careful with his feet, he crossed the porch and went down the steps. He shuddered to think what it'd be like in a couple more months. By then, even Florida would be in the deep freeze, which certainly wouldn't bode well for the “resettlement communities” they were supposedly building down there.

  Looking up at the sky, Ryan could make out a faint yellow splotch, and he wondered what it was. Then he realized it was the full moon, obscured by the volcanic haze. There were no clouds as such, but the aerosols thrown up into the stratosphere acted like a thick veil across the sky. The veil that would make it get colder and colder as winter wore on.

  Shivering despite the heavy layers of clothes he was wearing, Ryan walked behind the berm, coming to a spot where Nora had leveled the top and left a propped-up ladder for access. Figuring this was where he should keep watch, he mounted the ladder, climbing up about eight feet or so above the ground. His eyes had adjusted to the dark enough so he could see down the hill to the low line of trees that lined the access road. Other than a few mondo-sized snow drifts, he could see nothing out of the ordinary. The silence was absolute, which didn't seem natural at all.

  In an effort to keep warm, Ryan walked back and forth along the flattened edge of the berm, moving his arms as well. He did this for a while, and once he finally warmed up a bit, he checked his watch. Two-twenty. He did a double take, thinking he misread it. Two twenty-one. Eight o'clock seemed like a lifetime away.

  * * *

  How he'd managed to do it, he had no idea, but as he jolted himself awake, Ryan realized he'd been sleeping sitting up, leaning against the ladder for support. He checked the time, seeing that it was nearly five AM. Three more hours to go. Feeling a twinge of guilt for neglecting his duty, he stood back up the ladder to survey the scene. At first, there was nothing. Then he heard it, so faint at first he couldn't be sure if it was his imagination or not, but then it became loud enough for him to be sure. A snowmobile, churning through the waist-deep snow somewhere in the distance.

  He thought about waking Nora, but decided against it. Best to wait and see what came of it, as it could be just someone just going about their way. At five in the morning? Ryan shifted the gun to his right shoulder, taking some security in having it. The sound grew louder, although the increase was extremely gradual. It sounded like just one machine, which meant it couldn't be much of a threat. One, no more than two individuals. Just the same, he decided it was best to get Nora out of bed after all. Just in case.

  A few minutes later, they stood together on top of the berm, neither of them able to hear the snowmobile. Ryan said, “I'm positive that's what I heard. It was going along like it was having difficulty getting through the snow.”

  “I believe you, Ryan. We just need to determine if it's still in the area or not. You did the right thing by getting me up.”

  He knew he should own up to falling asleep on post, but decided it could wait. His thoughts were interrupted by Nora whispering, “Do you hear that? It sounds like a loud insect, but mechanical. There, I hear it again.”

  Ryan heard it as well, a high-pitched whining sound that sounded vaguely familiar. Then it hit him. Looking at Nora eye-to-eye, he said, “That's a goddammed drone.”

  Nora looked up and swiveled her head, aiming her flashlight upward. In seconds, she managed to highlight a quadcopter-type drone hovering about twenty feet overhead. “You're absolutely right. That is a drone.” Without further ado, she tossed the flashlight to her left hand and pulled out her pistol with her right hand, raising both up to the drone and firing a single shot. The bullet hit one of the four motors of the device, and it spiraled to the ground about twenty feet away, the other propellers spinning madly.

  Amazed at her skill, he looked at her with a wide smile. “Good job, you got it!”

  She shook her head. “We have no reason to celebrate. The guy on the snowmobile was probably a spotter. This is exactly the kind of place they're looking for, alone and isolated, and with a huge potential payoff.” She
glanced back at the house. “You stay put. I'm going into the house to wake the family. I'll have Irene and Eliza go into the cellar. I'll figure out where to place Sam and Jimmy.”

  Ryan moved in front of Nora to prevent her from going down the ladder. “You really think this is it? That we're going to be raided?”

  She shoved past him. “Not if I can help it. Oh, let me have the AR. I'll get the Mossberg and a couple extra Glocks to bring back to you. Stay put, don't go anywhere.”

  In a flash, she was gone, leaving him feeling vulnerable without his main weapon. Deciding to go against Nora's wishes, he scrambled down the ladder as soon as she slipped inside the house. Circling around the house, he angled through the rear gap of the berm and made a beeline for the far door of the shop. Since the building needed to be secured, he did the deadbolts on the far door before sprinting over to the gun safe. Although he had taken the guns and most of the ammo out of there, there was one item he had left behind – the box of hand grenades he'd gotten from an old military buddy of his. Not even Nora knew he had them. But if it was really going to be as bad as she said it was going to be, they were going to need all the help they could get.

  Once he had managed to get the door open, he reached down and pulled up a hidden flap in the floor. Underneath was a nondescript wooden box sandwiched between two army-green ammo boxes. Ignoring the ammo boxes, he grabbed the wooden box and closed the flap. He opened the lid of the box, which revealed eight hand grenades nested like eggs in a bed of foam. He decided he would split them with Nora, hoping to do it in a way so the others didn't know about them.

  Thankful that his coat had deep, roomy pockets, he stuffed the grenades into four separate pockets and tossed the box onto the floor. Not even bothering to shut the safe door, he ran around the motorhome to the shop's front door, making a point to flip the breaker switch located on the wall. If the raiders did break in here, he didn't want the lights to make things easier for them. The shop now pitch-black, Ryan felt his way to the door, making a point to lock it behind him.

  Turning from the door, he spotted Nora running up to him frantically. “Where the hell have you been? I told you to stay on top of the berm.”

  Ryan patted his coat pockets as he looked behind her. “Getting something for us. Where are the others?”

  “I've got Irene with the 12-gauge in the cellar with Eliza, along with the dog. I'm putting Sam on the front porch, and I'm keeping Jimmy inside for now.”

  Reaching into one of his pockets, he pulled out two of the grenades, handing them to her. “I know I haven't told you about these...”

  “Holy shit, how many of these things you've got?” She held one of them up close to her face for closer inspection in the dim light.

  “Eight. I want you to have four.” He pulled out two more and gave them to her. “I think Jimmy needs to be guarding the back. We can't be letting them get into the house.”

  Nora paused for a moment as she looked around her. “You're right. I'll be roving, but we do need to have someone guarding the rear. I'll show him how to maintain cover.”

  “You want me back on top in the front?”

  “Yes, of course. The Mossberg and a box of shells are by the ladder. If you see anything that moves out there, blast it.”

  As Nora sprinted toward the back door, Ryan jogged around the left side of the house to where the ladder was, and spotted Sam pacing back and forth on the porch, holding his pistol with both hands. He didn't have gloves on. Waving at him, he said, “Put that thing away for now, there's nobody out there yet. Nora will let us know if anyone's coming.”

  Sam didn't say anything, tucked the gun into his right coat pocket, and quickly shoved his gloveless hands into both pockets. At twenty plus below, it wasn't smart to have bare skin exposed to the air for very long. At these temperatures, frostbite was a real concern. Glad he was wearing a warm pair of gloves himself, Ryan walked over to the berm, picked up the Mossberg and checked it to make sure a shell was in the chamber, and mounted the ladder. Reaching the top, he cocked his head to the side, making sure he was really hearing something. After a few seconds of listening, he was sure of it. It sounded like a road plow coming up the access road to the property.

  Ryan froze, the implications of what he was hearing slowly sinking in. Looks like Nora's gonna be right about this.

  Chapter 20

  Sam struggled to minimize the growing panic attack that threatened to paralyze his body. As the snowplow rumbled closer, accompanied by the sound of roaring snowmobiles and souped-up trucks, he stood in a shooter's stance, holding the Glock with both of his hands in front of him. The bitter cold stung his bare hands like a multitude of needles, but he didn't dare to go back inside to look for gloves, which would hinder his shooting anyway. He looked up to see Nora crawling onto the top of the berm to his right, calling out to him.

  “Stand where you can see straight through the gap. You see anything come through there, start squeezing that trigger. I'm going to start picking them off when they get within seventy-five yards, Ryan at twenty-five yards. Looks like a big group, so get ready.”

  Sam feared for his son, who was supposedly guarding the back. Irene and Eliza were safely barricaded in the cellar along with Shelly, both by the padlock on the outside and a crossbar on the inside, plus he showed her how to use the 12-gauge, instructing her to keep it aimed at the door at all times, just in case. His thoughts were sharply interrupted by the sound of Nora shooting the AR-15, the deafening boom cutting through the frigid night air.

  The gun roared again, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! three times in rapid succession, followed by return gunfire. A few seconds later, a couple of snowmobiles drew much closer, and Sam heard the voices of the raiders calling out to each other. Ryan fired the Mossberg, the massive gun sounding like cannon fire. The snowmobiles fell silent. Then he heard Nora shout, “There's two right below me. Watch out!”

  Sam saw a figure appear in front of him in a crouched position, and almost by instinct, he squeezed off two quick shots, causing the man to fall over forward. No sooner than he had done so, two additional men charged the gap, and Sam pulled the trigger as rapidly as he could, the Glock barking off four, five, six shots in a row. The last of the men staggered forth, shot in several places, but he still managed to raise up his gun, preparing to shoot. Sam settled the matter by putting a bullet into the man's head.

  Above, Nora's AR-15 boomed almost constantly, drawing an equal amount of return fire. More snowmobiles came into hearing range, in addition to a truck with huge tires churning through the snow. Nora paused in her shooting for a few seconds, and then Sam saw her toss an unseen object toward the truck. Three seconds later, a stomach-punching explosion went off, accompanied by a flash of yellow light on the other side of the berm.

  Ryan's shotgun went off, blazing four times in a row, causing one of the snowmobiles to burst in flames in front of the gap. It turned out to be a godsend, the light allowing Sam to see the tide of additional raiders storming toward the gap.

  “Nora, Ryan, I need some cover here!” he shouted.

  Sam fired off the rest of his shots, and hit the deck as a wave of bullets blasted into the house above him. In a sheer panic, he pulled out the replacement magazine and popped the old one out, shoving the new one in just in time to see a raider sprinting toward the porch. Two shots rang out at the exact same time, with Sam's shot hitting the man's midsection, and the return bullet grazing his ear, although didn't realize it until later. A fusillade of shots went off from above, giving him a chance to get back up into shooting position.

  Two seconds later, with him barely having enough time to get his gun up, more men swarmed the gap, shooting all sorts of weapons in a haphazard manner. It was all he could do but to keep pulling that trigger over and over again, until he had used all nineteen bullets in his magazine.

  When he ran out, he realized that the others had stopped shooting as well. Nora shouted, “I think they're regrouping. You guys stay put, I'm going to see if I
can push them back down the hill.”

  Before Sam had a chance to object, he heard Nora clambering down the opposite side of the berm. Hit with the sudden impulse to check up on Jimmy, he ran around the house, and spotted him standing in the open area between the back of the house and the shop. Relieved to see that he was okay, he said, “Come with me, you're going to stay inside the shop.”

  Jimmy continued to hold his pistol in an upturned position. “Nora wants me to guard the back.”

  Sam shook his head as he tugged his son's left arm. “It's too dangerous, there's too many of them out there. I want you in the shop where it's a bit safer.”

  “What am I supposed to do when they burst in there?”

  “That's when you start shooting. But at least they'll be coming from one or two spots as opposed from everywhere. Come with me, now!”

  Jimmy reluctantly followed him to the shop, where he had to break out his keys to unlock the door. Once they were inside, Sam scrambled to find a LED light to turn on, since the main light switch didn't work. Pointing to a spot midway between the two doors in the narrow space between the wall and motorhome, he said, “Wait there. Just be ready to shoot if they break in.”

  Not wanting to give his son time to insist on coming with him, Sam sprinted to the front door, making sure it was locked when he closed it. Outside, he could hear gunfire, although it wasn't too close. Checking around him to make sure it was clear, Sam ran over to the house and around the left side of it to the front.

  Ryan called out to him as he headed to the porch. “Hey, I need a box of those shells. Toss them up here.”

  Sam found the box of shotgun shells at the base of the steps, picked it up and carried it up the ladder to hand it to Ryan. He watched him reloading his Mossberg, then asked, “Where's Nora?”