The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  “Okay, let’s move.” I got up, and almost smiled at Richard’s startled expression. But he said, “Wait.” He slung off his pack. “Let’s empty your bucket into our packs. It’s too hard to carry.” He took the bucket I’d been carrying which we’d opened the day before. That was fortunate, because they were sealed tight. We’d found a tool in the cupboard which was just for opening such lids but we hadn’t thought to grab it on our frantic escape from the house. I watched as he transferred three pounds of pistachios, a six-cup bag of quick oats, one package of brownies (there’d been two, but we’d already eaten one); and a ten-cup bag of parboiled rice to his pack. I knew exactly how much of each item there was because it was all typed out on a label, which had been taped to the bucket.

  We could eat the nuts and brownies while walking. Another of our buckets held crackers, tortilla chips, salsa, cough drops, instant oatmeal, raisins, and sunflower seeds. The contents had amused and delighted us. They didn’t seem to be grouped in a logical order, but who cared? It was edible. Our last bucket held chopped dates, a pound of hazelnuts, a package of whole bean coffee, ground decaf coffee, black tea, peach tea, sugar packets, and powdered creamer. Not as much nutrition as the others held, but tea! I hadn’t tasted tea since the Steadmans, and already it felt like ages ago.

  So we started off. Richard carried the remaining two buckets while I shouldered both packs to lighten his load. We were heading to woodsy hills that lined the horizon to the west. Richard said, “Even if Aunt Susan didn’t make it, we can live on her farm. I can chop wood. We can plant a garden. If dad joins us—or if he’s already there—”

  “You think?”

  “He might be. And if he’s there, we’ll have a shot at this, at making it through next winter. By then the government should be reorganizing, sending help.”

  “Or—”

  “Or God help us all.” I turned sharply to see Richard’s face. He never mentioned God, didn’t believe in him, or so he said. I wondered if he was changing his mind or if it was just an expression. I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I still had the small Bible I’d found in the library but hadn’t had many good reading opportunities.

  In the beginning when we first set out for Indiana, I’d thought of Aunt Susan’s homestead as paradise. There, we could lay our weary heads, be loved, and not have to struggle to survive. I’d been thinking of it as if it hadn’t been subject to the pulse. Somewhere inside I knew it was an illusion—that getting there wouldn't end the struggle. But I’d resisted knowing. My biggest worries had been about having to tell Aunt Susan her Jesse was gone, and my mom, her sister. But I no longer worried about that. I no longer believed there was an Aunt Susan to worry about. I also no longer believed in paradise—not on earth, anyway. It made me want to give up. But if Richard really believed Dad might be alive? That was something. That was hope.

  We came to a road before the start of the hills. It had recent truck tracks going both ways.

  “This is an active road,” Richard said. “They must lead to that camp. That sign was wrong; it said half a mile. We’ve walked more than that and I don’t see it. C’mon. We need to get off the road before a truck comes.” Richard headed into the brush lining the side, beyond which was an incline that looked challenging. The hillside seemed young as far as hillsides went because the trees were all saplings. The ground was sandy and the brush sparse. But it was steep.

  “You won’t be able to carry those buckets up that hill,” I said.

  He surveyed it and sighed. “Youʼre right. But there’s nowhere to stop and empty them safely. I’ll take up one at a time. And then we’ll get them open. They’re slowing us down. We’ll stuff both our packs, our pockets, everything we have so we can get rid of them.” He turned to me. “Holler if you see anything coming. I’m gonna take a look over the hill.”

  I sat on one of the buckets while he scurried up the hill. In minutes, he came crashing and sliding back down.

  “There’s an old hunting blind up there! It looks intact. C’mon!” He took one bucket and started back up as I followed. We left the other on its side to reduce its profile, but the buckets are white plastic—not exactly camouflage on a spring day.

  Richard took measured steps, digging his heels into the sandy loam for leverage. I tried to follow suit. I wasn’t as fast as he was, even though I only had the backpacks. When we reached the top, there was better tree cover. Richard dumped his bucket behind one. He hurried past me to retrieve the other bucket—just as we both heard it: a truck!

  “Get out of sight!” Richard cried. But instead of getting beside me or behind another tree, he went crashing back down the hill!

  “Richard, don’t!”

  “We can’t leave it there for them to find!” he yelled, as he disappeared over the ridge. I looked frantically down the road and spotted the vehicle. It was one of the army trucks all right, still pretty far, but probably not far enough to miss seeing Richard. I moved forward so I could keep an eye on my brother, who had grabbed the bucket and was heading back uphill, moving fast. Among the young saplings on the hillside and the sandy soil, he looked like a big dark snake in the grass.

  “You can’t make it!” I shouted. “Stop and hide!” To my horror, I watched while Richard stumbled and went rolling, bucket and all, back down the hillside. I lost sight of him but knew he must have landed near the road. The truck meanwhile was approaching, its sound loud and ominous. I had no choice but to fall to my stomach and hide.

  I lay there on the scratchy ground, heart-stricken, waiting for the awful sound of those wheels slowing; of men grabbing my brother and taking off with him, leaving me all alone. I decided instantly that if they didn’t automatically shoot him but took him with them, I’d show myself and go, too. No way was I gonna stay out there alone. I shut my eyes and thought of God. God was watching!

  Help us, Lord! Hide Richard!

  Lying there helplessly, I listened with growing dread as the vehicle reached our area. Now—it was here! My throat tightened. And then, miraculously, it rumbled past! If anyone on that truck was watching the hill, even casually, surely they’d have seen Richard. He’d been a dark blotch against the sandy soil and thin saplings. But after growling past us, the sounds grew fainter and finally all we heard was the sound of the wind in the trees. Richard called to me. “Stay there! I’ll be up soon.”

  Five minutes or so ticked by and then Richard came over the top of the hill, bucket in his arms. He smiled. I was so happy to see him, I wanted to give him a hug—but I restrained myself. “How did they not see you?”

  He looked back towards the road. “When I slid down, I thought it was over. They’d find me. But I fell right into a ditch! It was deep, too! I landed right on top of this thing,” he said, nodding towards the white bucket, “which is probably what saved my skin. That truck went right by!” He paused, and then added, “I didn’t really notice the ditch before, did you?”

  I shook my head. “No. But I prayed for you.”

  He met my gaze. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 33

  LEXIE

  Blake has laser focus when he’s absorbed in something. Nothing, not even I, can distract him. So yesterday when I told him I could do lookout duty, he apparently hadn’t really been paying attention. (When he kissed me to celebrate, I figured that meant paying attention. Guess not!) Because he came to me this morning, frowning.

  “I wasn’t thinking, yesterday. About you coming up the hill with me. I think you’re safer down here. I’ll find someone else.”

  “I want to do this!” I stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t want me along?”

  His face softened. “Lex, lookout is one of the more dangerous jobs. We got a new guy yesterday. I’ll tell your dad to put him up there with me. Why don’t you give riding lessons today? I heard your mom say Evangeline needs to learn.”

  Bitterly, I replied, “If I had a horse, I might be able to do that!”

  “Sorry—I forgot—Rhema’s still missing?”
<
br />   “And so are Mrs. Patterson and Mr. Washington.”

  “That’s not good,” he said, looking away.

  “I don’t want to give lessons, anyway. I want to be on lookout with you!”

  “But the new guy…” he began.

  “No!” I’d heard about our newest compound member. He’d come with a rifle and two pistols—nothing unusual there—except he had a guitar strapped to his back and a trumpet in another case slung over his shoulder. I’d been told we’d have a new alarm system once he got used to the drill: his trumpet! We needed something that didn’t depend on battery power because batteries, even car batteries, run out. A trumpet fit the bill. But I was in no mood to think about our newcomer at the moment. I shook my head.

  “My dad is finally letting me do this and now you won’t?”

  He stared at me, looking perplexed. “If it wasn’t me—would you still want to do it?”

  Inside, I wavered. I realized at that moment it was only because of Blake that I did want to! I hadn’t realized it before. “Not as much.”

  He frowned again. “I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt.” He gave me a deep, earnest look. (I love Blake’s deep, earnest looks.)

  “You won’t be. My parents okayed my going, not you. I’m in God’s hands, same as you.”

  He nodded. “Hmmm. Yeah. I still don’t like it.”

  “I’m sorry. It’ll be okay!”

  As I geared up to go with him, my dad came over and read us the riot act—all the rules, as though we’d never heard them, tips and reminders and finally—prayer. He prayed over us and the compound for safety and blessing. Meanwhile, I strapped my rifle around my shoulder, got extra ammo, and allowed Blake to put camouflage paint on my face, though I couldn’t help but giggle as he did it. I then did his face. We both wore dark clothes, and Blake had a walkie-talkie and extra batteries for it. My dad had me test using it because I rarely got to touch one. I thought the whole thing was fun—it was like getting dressed up for Halloween. I should have known better.

  I’d made us a thermos of tea, and my mom fetched us some snacks—beef jerky and homemade granola bars, which I shoved in my pack. I was raring to go. I could see what the daily grind of chores was doing to me—because here I was, excited to be going on lookout duty against violent thugs or worse! But it meant a day with Blake and a day when I wasn’t babysitting, hand-washing clothes or hauling in water from the pump.

  As we started down the hall towards the back of the house, I ran into Andrea. I automatically looked away and went to walk around her, but she touched my arm. I stopped, but didn’t look at her.

  Blake said, “I’ll wait outside for you.” I nodded.

  “Lex, how long are you gonna stay mad at me?”

  I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know. Every time I thought about what she did, and what we went through to get her and her family here, it still made me mad.

  “C’mon, Lex! I told you how sorry I am. I was a jerk and I know it.” I shot a glance at her face and she did look really sorry. But I was glad she was sorry.

  “I gotta go,” I said.

  “Just give me an idea, okay? How long do you think you’re gonna be mad at me? Because I hate it. I miss you.”

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before you came on to my boyfriend.”

  She sighed. “I know I should have. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I want you out of my room,” I said. “You’ll have to sleep with the twins.”

  “I’m not gonna share a room with boys!” She seemed really upset and I was secretly pleased. I’d actually meant she ought to sleep with my sisters, who, like her brothers, were also twins. She’d assumed I meant her siblings. “Fine. Sleep with my sisters, then. I don’t want to share a room with you anymore. You—you betrayed me.”

  “Lex—!”

  I walked away. It hurt to talk to Andrea. It hurt to stay mad at her too, but I have a stubborn streak and it was coming through loud and clear at the moment. (“That’s not a stubborn streak,” my mom had said once when we were discussing bad behavior on my part. “Call it what it really is—sin.” Ouch.) But Andrea had gone too far.

  I met Blake outside and we started up the hill.

  “How’d that go?” he asked.

  I was silent for a moment. “I’m still mad at her.”

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to be. She’s not a threat for you.”

  “She betrayed me,” I said.

  “Don’t you think you ought to forgive her? As a Christian?”

  I let out a big sigh. “Yeah, I know I ought to! I’ve prayed about it. It’s just hard to do.”

  We didn’t talk about it after that. As we climbed the hill, I sent up a silent prayer. Lord, I need grace to see Andrea as you do—someone worthy of love. Forgive me for my stubbornness. Conviction shot through me. I really was stubborn! Tears popped into my eyes as I felt it, the depth of my sinful heart. I hated seeing what a sinful thing I am, but you can’t spend a lot of time before the Lord and not see it. Not if you’re honest with him and yourself. I know I should forgive her, but I can’t seem to be able to do it. Please help!

  After that, I forced my mind away from Andrea. Instead, I imagined what a wonderful team Blake and I were gonna make as lookouts. I finally had the chance to prove to Dad he was wrong about us! In fact, I knew Blake well enough that I wasn’t expecting a day of fun. He would not want me to be a distraction; he took lookout duty seriously. But I was glad just to be near him all day.

  When we got up there, the lookouts we were relieving handed over their walkie-talkie and binoculars, and gave us their report. No unusual activity—thank God.

  When we were settled in with our rifles, thermoses, packs of food, and other supplies, we did a reconnaissance of the perimeter of the property. Then we took turns watching different sides. The shed has a window on each wall so we don’t have a blind side; but even so, we go outside now and then to get a better look around. I was keeping a special eye on the horse pasture, though being in the interior of the compound it didn't need special watching. But I was obsessed with my horse’s absence. I kept looking through the herd, wishing she would turn up.

  “I wish I would see Rhema.”

  Blake took a look at the pasture with the binoculars. “Don’t worry about it right now. Keep your eyes on the perimeters.”

  I found it cozy in the small shed, but it wasn’t actually much sturdier than a hunting blind. There were two camp chairs and a tiny table. In the winter we would put a kerosene heater up here. We were steadily collecting kerosene and any other fuel our people came across or brought with them, for next winter. Some people wanted to use fuel for outdoor grilling, but my dad and Mr. Buchanan, the default leaders even among the leadership team, say winter heating is more important than convenience in cooking. You can cook with wood, charcoal or anything that will burn.

  I felt like a soldier up there in my camo and with a rifle at my side; and why not? We were all sort of holding our collective breath against the day we’d be fighting foreign soldiers. Slowly I let my eyes rove back and forth, out to the road and then the adjacent lands. I took furtive peeks at the horses while trying to concentrate as Blake said, on the perimeters. The binoculars were actually a hindrance for the most part; like a scope on a firearm, they super narrowed your focus. I did use them to take a careful look at each horse in turn, just in case Rhema was back.

  She wasn’t. I prayed silently for the safe return of Andrea’s mom and my horse. Then Blake nudged me in the arm. “Look,” he said, pointing out towards the main road. A line of trucks was snaking down the road, military trucks, heading our way.

  My pulse picked up. “Is it our military?” I asked.

  “Not sure,” Blake said. He had already grabbed the two-way and was giving the alarm. “It’s active!” he told my father, at the other end.

  From below we heard the wail of the alarm. I imagined the mayhem it was causing in the hou
se and cabins: Muster arms! Defensive positions! Move the children to the safe room!

  Rifles at the ready, we crouched at the open windows. Somehow I hadn’t expected anything but a pleasant day with Blake. We’d had so many alarms of late; it didn’t seem possible that we’d be facing another threat so soon! But with any luck the trucks would go right by, continuing down the road to wherever they were heading. There were four of them, and we had no way of knowing how many men might be in the canvas-covered truck beds.

  “The truck says FEMA!” Blake said, lowering his rifle.

  “Then they’re okay?” I asked. “Not a threat?”

  Blake got back on the walkie-talkie but he shook his head. “Not sure.” He gave the news, and then, as we watched, the trucks began ominously slowing down as they neared our driveway. We’d plastered the drive with debris precisely because we knew this day might come. But even as we watched, men poured out of the first truck and began moving the logs and everything else we’d planted there. My heart sank.

  Why was this happening on my first day on the hill? Why had I demanded that my father let me do this? I wanted to be home with the family! Plainly I saw that, despite the obstacles we’d painstakingly built up down there, it was only a matter of time.

  They were going to enter our compound.

  Chapter 34

  SARAH

  When we reached the old hunting blind Richard had spotted, he cut the lid out of one bucket. We emptied it and our packs and then re-filled the packs more compactly. It was like dividing the loot—so much food! I felt like we’d just robbed a bank.

  But we still had one bucket to carry. He cut it open and we ate from it. Then he removed a shirt from my pack and tied up the bottom, making a sort of hobo bag. We emptied the rest of the bucket into that and he tied the empty sleeves into a knot for easy carrying. Afterwards, we rested, waiting for dusk.