The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  Knowing Andrea, I should have seen this coming. She is nothing but a big flirt.

  Chapter 15

  ANDREA

  I ran after Lexie to apologize. I wanted to explain! But Mrs. Martin stopped me in the kitchen as I watched Lexie disappear out the back door.

  “Whoa! Hold it right there, young lady. What is going on? What is Lexie upset about?” Blake sidled up behind us at that moment and Mrs. Martin looked at him. “What happened?”

  I froze, trying to figure out what to say. Blake fumbled for words and then said, “It was a misunderstanding.”

  Mrs. Martin looked from Blake to me and then her eyebrows went up. “Really!” she said. “Oh.”

  “No, no, it isn’t like that,” Blake said. Then we both fell silent. Because, really, it was like that.

  “Look—I don’t need to know your business.” Mrs. Martin dusted flour off her hands. “But whatever happened between you all, I’ll tell you this. Lex seemed pretty upset. I don’t know what happened—”

  I opened my mouth to explain, but she held up one hand, stopping me. “And I don’t want to know. I just think you both should realize my daughter is crying her eyes out right now.”

  I felt my shoulders slump. My whole being slumped. I knew it must have looked bad. The truth is I was just flirting with Blake. It’s very difficult to even get near him, usually. I mean, in terms of him being aware of you. I know he’s Lexie’s, but it was a rare opportunity for me to feel like I could make myself more of a friend to Blake—and vice versa.

  I was showing him how high I could get Moppet to jump. That cat is an amazing jumper. (Just having a pet is something to appreciate these days. We’ve heard stories of people eating dogs and yes, even cats to survive.) So anyway, Moppet can easily go up as high as five feet in the air when I throw her toy up. She catches it nearly every time. Blake enjoys the cats. His family doesn’t have any indoor cats because his little sister and brother are allergic. So when he seemed interested and started throwing the toy up too, there came a moment when we were standing very close. I took his arm.

  “Look,” I said. “It works with anything—it doesn’t have to be her toy.” I withdrew my ponytail holder and threw it up. The cat went for it like it was raw fish. Blake chuckled. Looking at his profile at that moment as he stood very close to me, I felt intense admiration. Maybe I should say attraction. Without even thinking about it, I just leaned over, intending to kiss his cheek. Blake turned to me at that very second. The look in his gaze told me he was not comfortable with me being so close, but I ignored it—and planted my lips on his!

  I don’t know what came over me! I intended just to kiss him on the cheek, but when he turned his face, it felt like an invitation. So I took it! The moment my mouth touched his, I felt him freeze. And he didn’t kiss me back. It was only for a second, I swear! I honestly don’t know what is wrong with me, that I would do that. It’s not like I planned it or anything. It just happened.

  And then we heard a sound and there was Lexie staring at us. The look on her face made me hate myself. I couldn’t believe it! Just my luck! Nothing really even happened between me and Blake. It was just me being an idiot! Blake immediately ran after Lexie.

  I shouted, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything!” and then I tore after them. I know in my heart that if Blake hadn’t been so shocked at what I did, he’d have pulled away. He’s never given me the least reason to think he’s even a tiny bit attracted to me. Not a hint! I wanted to explain that to Lexie. I wanted to make her understand it was 100% my fault!

  And then Mrs. Martin stopped us. Blake went out the back door after Lexie. I hoped he’d realize she had probably run to the barn. When Lexie’s upset she takes great comfort from her horse. She says Rhema is a calm creature, and very sympathetic. I sort of find that funny—thinking a horse can be sympathetic. Even though I love to ride, I’m not a horse person—I don’t love the animals the way Lexie does. So maybe she’s right. I hope it helps her feel better!

  Anyway, Mrs. Martin told me to make myself useful. I picked up some dishes from the counter to wash and then suddenly we all heard it—a distant blast. Not gunfire--something bigger and louder, like an explosion! Right after that, the alarm blared. It’s a new system that Blake set up which runs on car batteries. After a lookout sends an alert, whoever is nearest an alarm turns it on by connecting two wires. The sound is loud enough for us near the house to hear it but doesn’t reach the road.

  A tense silence fell over us as we waited. For a possible threat, we’d hear a bunch of intermittent whines. For an actual threat, the alarm was nonstop for a full minute or more. When the wailing didn’t stop, I almost dropped the bowl in my hands. Another skirmish! So soon after the last one! And it was growing dark.

  The atmosphere changed instantly. My arrival had already silenced the happy chatter of the women as they busied themselves, but now there was urgency in their voices.

  “Leave everything, ladies!” said Mrs. Martin. “Jolene, you get the children to the safe room!” Jolene, who was Jared’s mother, could not handle a firearm and refused to learn. She was good with kids, though. I was afraid I’d be ordered to help her round them up, but Mrs. Martin’s gaze swept the room and she included me when she said, “Check your rifles, ladies. This sounds like trouble.” Her walkie-talkie was already buzzing and I heard Mr. Martin’s voice.

  “Lookouts see vehicles on the road—possibly trucks. Get the lamps out quick! They haven’t reached us, yet.” It was standard procedure to douse all candles, oil lamps or battery-operated lights if an alarm sounded at night. The only exception was if the house had been broken into—we’d need light then, to see our enemy and not shoot each other. But there hadn’t been many alarms at night. Marauders needed daylight as much as we did. So we went around putting out lights; then I hurried upstairs where I’d left my rifle.

  I thought of Lexie and Blake. Everyone had instant protocol to follow when an alarm sounded. For those of us who lived in the house, we were supposed to return to it immediately if we were anywhere else, or get to the nearest refuge, such as one of the cabins. There were even some foxholes as well as the lookout posts, if worst came to worst. Had Lexie and Blake made it back to the house? Were they armed? I doubted it.

  We often carried our firearms with us; but they were bulky and got in the way of chores, so more often than not Lexie and I would leave them on top of a tall dresser in her room. It was too high for any of the children to reach but easier to access than a gun vault. In the bedroom I grabbed Lexie’s rifle along with mine, and rushed downstairs again hoping my friends had returned.

  “Who’s that?” It was Mrs. Martin’s voice. The house was dark. I wouldn’t have seen her as I reached the bottom of the stairs if she hadn’t spoken. “It’s me, Andrea. Did Lexie and Blake get back?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Come with us.” I followed her voice, barely making out the walls as we hurried towards the front rooms. In the living room we heard men’s voices, and Mrs. Martin said, “Hon, are you in here?”

  “I’m here.”

  “What’s the plan? Where do you want us? I’ve got four women with me.”

  “Stay here for now. I’ve got lookouts on the line right now; those trucks are going by us.”

  “What was that explosion?” Someone asked.

  After a moment Mr. Martin said, “We don’t know, yet.” Then the voice of one of the lookouts came over the crackling line: “Looks like they’re all past us. Keep lights out for now.”

  “Roger that,” said Mr. Martin. “Have a seat, folks. We’re all gonna stay put for a little bit.”

  I went towards a window and got on my knees to look outside. There were muffled chuckles while the adults, making their way to the sofas, were apparently knocking into each other in the dark. I looked outside but saw nothing but the outline of the brush against the sky, far down by the front of the property. The walkie-talkie buzzed with chatter as some of the other families sought information
or instructions. I wondered where Lexie and Blake were, and if they’d made up by now.

  Remembering what had happened earlier, I felt shame creeping up my face like a stain. Lexie was going to hate me, for sure. I thought of Jared and hoped he wouldn’t find out about it.

  And then—I made a decision. It was time to get something going with Jared! If Lexie saw I was serious about Jared, she’d realize Blake meant nothing to me.

  She’d have to—wouldn’t she?

  Chapter 16

  SARAH

  I held very still. Tom and Martha’s son was ready to shoot me on the spot.

  “They’re here!” I said, between clenched teeth. “Martha and Tom are here! They’re fine!”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Sarah. My brother and I are staying with your folks. They—they took us in!”

  He lowered his pistol and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Then I realized more people had come in behind him. I turned and saw a woman, recognizing her bedraggled appearance as that of a desperate survivor. She was the image of me as I’d been four days earlier—unkempt, exhausted, grubby. But she had a sleeping baby in her arms, and two more children clutching her clothing. They moved with her as she entered the room, shuffling past me to put the youngest child gently upon a settee against one wall. She must have heard what I said, because when she turned back to appraise me her eyes were kind

  “We’re family,” she said. “These are Martha and Tom’s grandkids.” I nodded at them, two more children besides the baby, trying to look welcoming, but inside my heart was breaking. I felt instinctively that these new arrivals would not want us there. No one welcomed extra mouths to feed unless they needed something in return. We were extra mouths, and we’d been useful to Martha and Tom—but would they need us now? When new help had arrived? And family! We had no chance, I was sure.

  I was right.

  The next morning the Steadmans came to me and Richard and apologetically told us we’d have to move on. Their son did not want us there. The house was crowded now, the family needing every bed available. Tom’s son, Mark, would take over the chores Richard had been doing. Their daughter-in-law, Charity, would help in the kitchen.

  Though I’d seen it coming, I felt devastated. Martha and Tom’s house was the safest place we’d been since the pulse. It was a place I could call home. And now we’d be homeless again, outcasts, on our own.

  Martha filled my backpack with food and bottled water. She gave me a waterproof poncho—something I’d often wished for—and a new knit hat. Richard received food, a rope, a sharp new knife, and poncho. All items which the Steadmans could use themselves. They were being as kind as possible.

  As we prepared to leave, Martha hugged me. “It was a blessing to us that you came,” she said. “I wish we could keep you….”

  “I know.”

  “We’ll pray for you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pray for you, too. Thank you for everything. It was…wonderful.”

  Martha’s eyes got teary and I turned away before I started bawling. I could feel it coming.

  Richard and Tom said their goodbyes and Tom nodded at me with a stern expression. He patted my arm. I could tell he felt badly about our having to leave.

  And so we left. It was the first time we’d traveled openly in daylight for weeks. Richard had used his topographical map to chart our direction. He and Tom had pored over it that morning after breakfast. Tom had many suggestions and tips—areas to avoid, population centers to go around, that sort of thing. What we didn’t realize was Tom’s son was afraid we’d come back; or maybe he was afraid we’d tell other people about the house, the provisions, I don’t know.

  All I know is, he came after us. With a loaded gun.

  Richard and I walked for miles without saying a word. We understood each other’s misery for one thing, making conversation unnecessary. Since the pulse, we’d covered so much ground together that we were used to moving quietly, having only our thoughts to occupy us no matter the terrain. Sometimes we’d surprise a squirrel or rabbit we could shoot for our next meal. Today, we were depressed about being out on the road again, making us particularly quiet. And as always, we were attuned to any unusual noises around us. We’d gotten off the road as soon as possible and had been heading through a surprisingly long stretch of woods, so there were trees all around us. Birds chittered overhead in the branches, and a mild breeze whispered through the brush. And then we heard it: Something coming from behind us. Not a rabbit or squirrel, it sounded heavier.

  “Get down!” Richard whispered. He shoved a folded knife at me. “Open it!”

  I didn’t hesitate, but accepted the knife, though I knew I’d never use it. I dodged behind the nearest tree. I had trouble opening it—stupid fold-up knives!—but finally I managed to get it opened. Richard had told me to, so I had. But even my terror couldn’t induce me to use such a weapon. I’d explained this to Richard in the past—I just wasn’t the kind of girl who could hurt someone with a knife, even in self-defense.

  Richard had disappeared behind another tree, and we waited. The sounds grew closer. I knew that by now Richard would have his gun out, and my heart started thudding. I hoped we’d see an animal, maybe a wild dog that had survived without becoming some desperate soul’s dinner. Maybe there was other wildlife that would appear. I took a deep breath and tried to be still.

  And then I saw the source of the sounds, coming to a stop about three feet away. A man, bending down to examine the ground. It was Mark, Tom’s son! I think he was looking for our tracks. I almost called out to him; only I happened to sense movement to my left, and saw Richard motioning for me to be silent, his finger over his lips. I frowned. What if Mark had come to take us back? What if the Steadmans had had a change of heart and decided we could stay? How could I let this chance pass us by?

  I motioned back to him trying to convey that I wanted to speak, but Richard suddenly threw himself backwards in a move I found incomprehensible! But in the next moment my head rang from a gunshot to my right! Mark had shot my brother! But no, he’d missed, and there he was, going after Richard, who was trying to scramble to his feet. He hadn’t seen me. He stood over Richard, his gun pointed menacingly at him.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  Richard glared at him. “I left her to rest while I went on ahead, to check out our path.”

  “How far back?”

  Richard shrugged. “Fifteen minutes.”

  The man took a breath. “Look, I’m sorry about this; but I know you’ll come back to the house.”

  “We won’t come back.” Richard’s voice was heavy, firm.

  “I have to be sure.” He took aim at my brother. And then, instead of shooting, he was howling, writhing, trying to grab a knife from out of his back. A knife which I had somehow just thrust into him!

  I sobbed, horrified, but Richard scrambled to his feet. “C’mon!” He grabbed my hand and we took off, running. “He’s still got a gun!” Richard said, “We gotta move!”

  It was hard for me to run. I wanted to collapse and cry. I couldn’t get the sight out of my mind—a knife sticking half in, half out, the blood spreading on his shirt! I’d stabbed someone! I, who was sure I could never do such a thing!

  We ran on but I was not at full speed. Finally, Richard stopped for a moment. He saw me having trouble I guess, or else I was moving so slowly he figured it out.

  “Look, Sarah.” He stared hard at me. “You just saved my life.” He was taking deep breaths, bending over, hands on his thighs. “You did what you had to do. He was gonna kill me.”

  I blinked, trying to accept his words. I knew he was right, and yet…and yet…

  “You saved my life!” he said again. “Thank you.”

  We resumed running. I will probably never know if I killed Tom’s son. I pray that I didn’t! To think I might have killed someone so dear to Martha is too horrible a thought. And a father of young children!

  I need Richard to survive, and
of course we both want to stay alive; but I’m beginning to wonder who I am. If I have to be this new Sarah, this person who can mercilessly stab another human being in order to live—is it really worth it? Am I any better than Mark, who would have killed us?

  Chapter 17

  LEXIE

  Blake found me in the barn near Rhema. I’d almost locked the door behind me but thought better of it. I wasn’t ready to talk, but I was secretly pleased he’d come after me. But I was madder at him than pleased.

  “Lex, I don’t care about Andrea,” he said, as I stood brushing my horse, my face still wet with tears. He came over and tried to take my arm. I shook off his attempt.

  “You have a funny way of showing it!” I went around Rhema to her other side.

  Speaking heavily, Blake said, “I didn’t kiss Andrea, Lexie.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t kiss her. I SAW it!” My voice broke as I spoke, and I was embarrassed that Blake could see how much I cared. Even though I’d been fully prepared to marry him, he hadn’t actually proposed, and suddenly I felt determined not to let him know I’d ever been that crazy about him. I’d envisioned our futures together, always seeing us working side by side, one day having our own homestead like mom and dad’s. But the image of him and Andrea, mouths touching, was emblazoned in my mind, and it blew away my hopes of that future like a tsunami hitting a row boat.

  “When Andrea kissed me, I was…too surprised to move! Trust me, I did not kiss her.”

  “Do you have any idea how LAME that sounds?” He’d come around towards me, and reached his hands out for mine. Again I shook him away. And then the alarm sounded and we froze listening, to see if it would be the warning short blasts, or the long frightening wail of an active threat. I hated the sound of the alarm. I hated the instant racing of my heart that accompanied it. When it held loud and steady, Blake whirled into action, grabbing my hand and moving us towards the doors.