The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  “It’s deep,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s gonna reach you, but—” and he disappeared for a moment and then passed down the fragment of rope he’d cut when getting himself down from the snare. It stopped, dangling, about a foot over my head. “Whoever dug this pit wasn’t hoping for small game,” he said. “We gotta get out of here.”

  “I told you!” I cried. Reaching for the rope I gasped, “I can’t reach it!” I was on my feet, jumping as high as I could but my fingers weren’t even grazing the end.

  “Look, it’s just dirt.” Richard said. “Wait a minute.” I heard him rummaging in his bag and then he reappeared above me. “Here.” He threw a small trowel to the ground beside me. “Dig a foothold into the wall. Dig a couple; maybe that will get you high enough to grab the rope.”

  I got busy doing what he’d said. You wouldn’t think it would be difficult, to carve out a few steps into a dirt wall. It was. I made two indentations and yet it was no good: without something to grab onto with my hands, the footholds weren’t enough. Richard had been doing something while I dug; He now lowered the rope again and this time I could reach it!

  “I twisted one of those huge garbage bags,” he said, “and tied it to the rope. This should give you another two feet.” It did. It was enough! Thank God for huge garbage bags!

  I grabbed hold and when he was ready, I started climbing.

  “You’re not gonna drop me, are you?” I began to work my way up the side of the pit. It felt precarious to me. I knew Richard’s strength alone might not be enough ballast for my weight. There was no answer but the rope held so I kept working my way up. My hands felt raw on the rope. As I neared the top I felt a great surge of hope but at the same time I felt myself slipping backwards a little.

  “Richard!”

  “Okay, okay, I gotcha!”

  But I was stuck. I didn’t have the muscle to pull myself to the top. I hung there, half supported by my feet against the wall of dirt, half suspended by Richard.

  “I’m stuck!”

  “Try, Sarah! You can do it,” he said. He didn’t sound good.

  I gave a great effort and tried to lift myself with my feet hitting the wall but all I did was end up with my feet over my head. My feet went up but not the rest of me. I was now scrunched up but unable to go any higher.

  I felt a slight tug from the rope. Richard was trying to get me up the last foot and over the edge! And then suddenly it was like he had superhuman strength because I felt myself being lifted easily and quickly and I was on my hands and knees on the ground! I gasped with relief and turned to thank my brother.

  Only Richard was on the ground too, with a wolf standing on him with bared teeth at his neck! It let out a low, guttural snarl. Beside the animal stood my rescuer, a man with a rifle out, pointed at Richard.

  When I looked up to see his face, it was like looking into the face of death. It must have been a man but he was hooded in a dark cape or coat, his face completely hidden from view. It reminded me of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, the eerie being who takes Scrooge into the cemetery at the end of A Christmas Carol. If this was our angel of death, he certainly looked the part.

  The wolf-dog growled again, now glaring at me. Even in the faint moonlight there was no mistaking the gleam of sharp teeth between curled lips. The growl grew louder.

  “I’m sorry!” I cried. “We didn’t mean to trespass! We’re just passing through! We’re going to my aunt’s in Indiana!” But I was suddenly aware of a really sick feeling coming over me—oh no, was I going to faint? I knew this feeling…I’d fainted in the past.

  The man slung his rifle over his shoulder and I drew in a breath of relief. Maybe he was reasonable. But then, in a single smooth motion he drew a sword from the folds of the dark cape. I guess I was weak from living on the road despite our recent bounty of food. I was definitely dehydrated. When I saw that sword emerge from the folds of his garment, I had a vision of him using it, passing it cleanly beneath my head. Doing the same to Richard, too.

  He bent over Richard who was on the ground, hurt from his fall, and still beneath that dog’s great jaws. He raised the sword.

  And everything went black.

  Chapter 35

  ANDREA

  As I searched outside for the little ones, Mrs. Wasserman came hurrying my way from the cabin grounds, holding her baby in her arms.

  “Have you seen the children?” I asked.

  “Jolene took them downstairs; I had to get my little one! She was napping. Come with me!” I’d wanted to peek inside Mr. Washington’s cabin to see if he was back. I was very aware my mother was still missing and my constant hope was to see them return. But I hurried alongside Mrs. Wasserman towards the house where we met Mrs. Martin coming out.

  “Jolene has the kids in the safe room,” I told her. “I’m just gonna check that they’re all down there.”

  “Good. You do that. Then c’mon up—we’ve got trucks entering the property. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

  “That was my plan,” I said.

  Mrs. Wasserman had stopped to listen and now shook her head. “Trucks?” She sounded upset. “What kind of trucks?”

  “Just get downstairs,” Mrs. Martin said. “Get that baby safe! We’ll fill everyone in later on the details, there’s no time now.”

  I followed Mrs. Wasserman who, to my surprise, began to pray—right out loud—as we went. “Dear Lord, protect our compound! Protect each and every soul on this property! Put Your angel armies around us and grant us safety, I pray!”

  Angel armies? I hadn’t ever thought to ask God to put angel armies around us! Would he really do that? In the safe room, I saw my brothers and baby Lily and did a quick head count of the kids—we have fourteen altogether. I also stopped to give the baby a kiss on the head. She held out her little arms to me but I couldn’t stay down there while we might be facing an attack.

  Cecily had just taken a rifle from the vault and we hurried back upstairs together. I glanced at her. Cecily was a strong Christian.

  “Do you believe in angel armies?” I asked.

  She looked at me with interest. “Of course! Did you know when the Bible says the LORD of hosts, another translation is LORD of Heaven’s Armies? And when it says LORD with all capitals, it means YAHWEH, Jehovah, All Powerful, Almighty! I know there’s angel armies!”

  I couldn’t help smiling at her confidence. “I’m glad,” I said, as we reached the top of the stairs and stopped, facing each other. “Because I think we’re gonna need them.”

  Cecily smiled. “When I’m at my post, I’ve got my rifle, but I pray, too! I’ll be praying for angel armies to cover this property!”

  “Good! Me, too,” I said.

  We parted there and I hurried up the next flight to our bedroom. Lexie had told me she wanted me out but Mr. and Mrs. Martin gave me permission to stay, so I had. Lexie didn’t like it, but I think the more we see each other, the more she’ll realize she just has to forgive me!

  Anyway, a man I didn’t recognize was already crouched at Lexie’s window. I’d heard someone new had joined the compound and figured this was him. My bipod was in position by the other window, so I got my rifle ready and carefully opened the pane—trying not to present a target for anyone out there. I glanced at the man, who turned and nodded at me—and I about did a double-take. This guy was beautiful! I mean it. It may sound funny to describe a guy that way but he was possibly the best looking guy I’d ever seen in my life. He had thick golden-brown curls that almost reached his shoulder; mesmerizing blue eyes, and a rough-shaven chin, with the beginnings of a beard. Most men these days had given up shaving without their electric razors, so beards are a common sight. This guy evidently continued to fight the growth.

  He gave me an encouraging little smile but I was too astonished, taking in his good looks, to return it. So this was the new guy! I heard he was a musician. Then while he was filling a second magazine, he winked at me! I was probably gaping at him, I don’
t know, and now I looked away, embarrassed. I pulled on my eye protection and got busy with my rifle but that wink was so unexpected—so friendly—it made me feel confident about him. A guy who could wink at a girl during a skirmish had to be someone with self-assurance. We needed all the assurance we could get. I instantly liked him.

  “Let’s get ‘em!” he said, and then shot a full grin at me. He was back at his scope before I could return the gesture—again I’d been too wowed to respond. What a smile! But I had to concentrate—I studied the scene before me. What I saw made my heart jump into my throat. Soldiers! And four trucks. It was true, then—there were foreign troops on our soil! At least I thought they were foreign. We’d been hearing rumors of guerrilla outfits and these guys looked the part.

  “Don’t shoot yet,” I said.

  He looked over at me. “I wasn’t going to. I got the drill—we return fire, we don’t start it.”

  I smiled. “Right.” But my grin vanished. “Do you think they’re foreign?”

  He peered out front where soldiers were busily engaged in clearing their way onto our land. “It says FEMA on that truck. But I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

  “If it’s our military, do we fight?” The idea frightened me.

  “If they shoot first,” he said.

  Marcus came in and fell to his knees beside me. “Move over, sweetheart. I need this window.”

  I wasn’t particularly fond of being called ‘sweetheart’ by this man. “It’s my window!”

  He stared at me and then nodded. “Oh, the little sure-shot. That’s okay, we’ll share!”

  Reluctantly I made room for him but he was definitely gonna cramp my style. I was determined to stay, however; it was my room and my window and that beautiful stranger was there! Marcus dropped two boxes of bullets on the floor between us, and then the three of us waited, watching the steady progress of the soldiers as they removed our painstakingly placed roadblocks from the driveway.

  For the first time I could remember, I had a really bad feeling about what was coming. I’d done my level best in many skirmishes, never feeling hopeless about our chances—but this was the military! I tried to swallow my fear. But frightful thoughts came at me unbidden: What if they wore body armor? They’d be doubly hard to take down. What if they just blew us off the map with some high-tech weapon? I remembered Mrs. Wasserman’s prayer: God, send us your angel armies! I silently repeated it, trying to believe it could happen.

  And we watched. And waited.

  Chapter 36

  LEXIE

  “What if it really is FEMA?” I asked Blake as we waited to see what would happen next. The trucks had come to a stop and the men on the ground seemed to be holding a little pow-wow. “Maybe they’re just trying to offer help.”

  “It’s not FEMA,” Blake said. “This is a military outfit, no doubt about it.” He paused. “I wish it was. It would mean we’ve got a working government.”

  There’d been plenty of speculation about whether the government was doing much to help the country. But all the sightings seemed to be of foreigners, guerrilla soldiers, not our own military. There was loads of talk about friendly nations who were shipping and flying in care packages, millions of dollars of care packages—only no one had ever laid eyes on any of it. It was all talk. People were claiming to have seen foreign soldiers, and FEMA trucks. Lots of FEMA trucks. Today we were getting our first look.

  My dad’s voice came crackling over the two-way. “Get out of the shack—you’re a clear target. Take cover.”

  We shouldered our rifles and grabbed our bipods and backpacks. I followed Blake, keeping low and away from the ridge, to brush cover. We found a spot and fell to our stomachs. Looking through the binoculars, he said, “They’re almost done. They got a lot of guys helping, maybe fifteen.” I repeated everything to my father via the two-way, though he said they had a pretty good view of the front too. We listened while other men from our group, some who had scattered to various assigned locations at the alarm, spoke back and forth, now and then asking questions.

  “Definitely says FEMA,” Blake repeated to somebody on the two-way. Then suddenly down there by the soldiers, one man seemed to be motioning for the others to stop what they were doing. They’d almost finished opening a path wide enough for the trucks to get through, but even as we watched, the work halted. Minutes passed. The trucks on the road started moving—and went right by the drive. One by one they went past. Meanwhile the men who had been on the ground were returning to the first truck. In a matter of minutes, they’d all climbed up and then it backed off the entrance area and followed the others, moving on down the road past us. All was once again quiet.

  Except on our radios. Voices buzzed back and forth. “Did you see that?”

  “What on earth!”

  “Why’d they leave?”

  “We’ve been saved!”

  Blake and I came to our feet whooping with joy. He took me in a great big hug and then we kissed. We could hear the sounds of other people rejoicing, their hollers crackling at us from the radio.

  Our men immediately got busy putting all the roadblocks back into place. Every log, every fallen tree that the soldiers had moved. When they were done, they hauled more down there. We have no idea what made them stop when they had come so close to clean access but it didn’t matter. We’d been saved.

  At least for now.

  Chapter 37

  SARAH

  I came awake gasping, with a pounding headache. My eyes felt glued shut. When I forced them open, I felt terribly confused. Wha—what was going on? Where was I?

  Suddenly I remembered—Richard! The man with the sword! I sat up and looked around. I was in an actual bed! In a strange room. Panic shot up my spine. How had I gotten here? Where was Richard? I swung my legs off the side wondering if that hooded man was going to confront me. Had he killed Richard? No, he couldn’t have, I told myself or why would I still be here?

  I surveyed the room with astonishment. It was a huge log-cabin, high-ceilinged, but cozy, with a black iron wood stove not six feet from me. I felt warmth radiating from it and moved closer; it was a cool morning for late May. There was an unfinished puzzle on a table near the bed. But wait, it wasn’t a bed; it was a futon. The room was vast, but crowded with furniture, blankets, trunks, oil lamps, rugs, animal skins, quilts, and antlers on the walls. They weren’t professionally mounted antlers, just one pair upon another, stacked like baseball caps. There were two bookshelves, stuffed with books and knick-knacks, and rattan baskets filled with yarn and knitting needles—knitting! A woman must live here! The thought gave me slight relief—but Richard was still missing. I couldn’t let my guard down.

  There was a corner devoted to exercise equipment—the sole nod to modernity that I saw. One end of the room served as the kitchen. I realized there was a wonderful smell coming from that direction. I felt myself pulled towards it like metal shards to a magnet. Something simmered on a big old iron pot on a big old iron stove—it smelled like beef stew! I felt a pang of nostalgia for Martha and Tom—this cabin reminded me of them, with its nineteenth century equipment and real food cooking. But where was Richard? I needed to look for him, but I couldn’t resist running to the cast-iron covered pot. I had to get a taste of it, whatever it was. It smelled heavenly. All the food we’d found at the house was wonderful, but this was a meal. A cooked meal. To my delight, a loaf of homemade bread sat on the table with butter beside it. Bread and butter. It all looked so utterly normal. A human being or beings lived here. Not an angel of death! It was so unreal. How could this food be just sitting here? The world was full of roaming looters looking for anything to eat, and here was this surreal log cabin with food, and I was in it. I looked around and listened for the sound of anyone else but heard nothing.

  I took a pot-holder from the table and gingerly went to open the covered pot. The lid was heavy. I peeked inside. I was right. Stew! The scent wafted over me. I inhaled deeply. It was almost intoxicating. But as I l
ooked for a spoon to taste the bubbling brew, a sense of caution came over me. Maybe I was being taken in, lulled into complacency like Hansel and Gretel in the witch’s lair--but too enthralled to get out while I could!

  I spun around, ignoring my growling stomach, the soothing aroma of the stew, and the scrumptious-looking bread and butter. I saw my backpack on the floor near the futon—hooray! I had my stuff. I grabbed it and swung it on, adjusting the straps; then went and peeked out a front window—and nearly jumped out of my skin. The moment I got near the window, that large wolf-dog I’d seen last night jumped into wild, barking fury, throwing himself at the window, and snarling at me like a hound from hell. I was trapped. I sat down to think.

  I looked out again, setting the animal into fresh fury. I was checking to see if it was leashed; but no such luck.

  Oh, Richard, where are you? Please be okay! Please come and save me! What should I do?

  I realized I was being an idiot—there might be a back door! Maybe that stupid wolf-dog wouldn’t know if I sneaked out the back. Past the kitchen area was a narrow hallway—I hurried towards it. As I went by the tantalizing aroma of the bubbling stew, I felt stabbing hunger. A longing to eat. What would it hurt if I tried a little before going? I stopped and hurriedly banged open cabinets to find a bowl and spoon, and yet I was detached, as though my behavior wasn’t my own—it was some other girl hurrying to steal someone’s dinner. Who are you? I asked myself. That a bowl of stew is more important than escaping? But it was no use. I could not resist the aroma. If it was a trap meant to snare me, it was working, because I could hardly think straight as I finally found what I needed and quickly lifted the heavy lid again. Real, cooked, food!

  I ladled in a large spoonful and sat down at the table, not removing my backpack. I had to sit—I had to savor these next few moments. The days at the Steadmans were like a dream to me now. This food was real, it was here. I was going to appreciate it. I took my first spoonful. It was wonderful; it was the best tasting food I’d ever eaten in my life. That was probably my hunger talking but I didn’t stop to question it.