“That settles it!” Tex said. “Time for Plan B.”
“This window is only one opening!” cried Richard. “We can use it against them.”
“I say we run,” said Tex. “We were supposed to be safe here—heck, invulnerable, with every opening fortified. This is a break in our defenses and that’s all an enemy needs—one opening, one weakness.”
“But it’s also a strategic advantage for us—it gives us a way to fight back instead of just sitting in here and doing nothing!” Richard cried. “We shouldn’t run without a fight!”
I thought my brother heroic at that moment considering he was already battle weary and exhausted even before this attack. He’d come home grimy and tired, and yet here he was, his eyes blazing with conviction, championing a fight. I felt proud of him—even though I liked Tex’s idea, too—of sealing up the cabin and hunkering down in safety while chaos raged out there. But much as I detested the noise and cringed at the danger, I too believed fighting was our best hope. After all, Plan B was doomed. It had to be. I couldn’t understand how Tex and Angel could be foolish enough to think we could possibly escape—they were so smart about everything else!
Tex eyed Richard. “My plan was to rely on our defenses when the time came to do so. But when I see what’s out there—and this weak spot—this opening—I can’t do it. I need Angel safe.” Tex’s eyes were usually either sparkling with humor or absolutely unreadable. But as he spoke now he swallowed, and his eyes revealed a turmoil I’d not seen in him before. When Angelʼs life was on the line, it brought out his heart, loud and clear.
“We’ve got great defenses everywhere else!” Richard cried. “The four of us can defend this one window! No one is gonna get over that windowsill alive!”
“You think we have a chance against a horde like that? They’ve got axes and hammers—they’re gonna tear this place apart!”
“We’ve got cover. They don’t,” Richard said. “Are there any hidden traps around the property?”
“They got past the traps—thanks to you,” Tex answered, heavily.
“No, not the ones out there, I mean closer traps—ones I don’t know about. Don’t you have any close to the cabin?”
“No, they’d endanger the dogs! But look—all that crowd needs to do is throw in a few burning torches—or tear gas—and we’re sunk. We’ll be overrun in minutes.”
“If they had tear gas, they would’ve used it already,” said Richard. “But what have you got besides rifles? We need something like...grenades.”
Tex shook his head. “We’re not like them out there,” he nodded towards the outside. “We didn’t plan on ways to hurt people. Just ways to stay safe. If you notice, we caught you and Sarah by trapping you—not harming you.” He looked at his wife. “What do you say, darlin’? Do we run—or keep fighting?”
Angel frowned. She glanced from Richard to Tex and back again. “I agree with Richard,” she said. “I think we should fight. Then if we have to, we’ll go to Plan B.”
That settled it for Tex, who started issuing orders. “Drag all that stuff down the hallway,” he told Richard, motioning at the duffel bags and other totes that Angel and I had filled.
“Just leave them in the hall?” Richard asked, surprised.
“Yes!” Tex’s voice was sharp. “And hurry! If we’re gonna do this—defy this invasion—we need to get at it!”
I watched Richard hurry the bags down the hallway. Now and then I’d seen Angel pile things up there, things that later disappeared but didn’t end up in the storage room. I figured it all went to the mystery storage area—the one Angel hadn’t let me see yet. But how could we take that stuff anywhere now? With marauders circling the place! And why bother bringing it to the hallway at all? If we did eventually have to make a run for it, any baggage would only slow us down.
Angel had leashed the dogs after the window shattered, circling the leashes around a wooden post away from the broken glass. They submitted with surprising docility to being leashed. I sensed they were tired from all the excitement since their fierce barks had degenerated into occasional shrill yaps, though they kept up a stream of suspicious snarls, eyes glued to whichever direction the outside noises came from.
Tex and Richard overturned the coffee table and lined the sofa cushions against it. The four of us crouched behind this like soldiers in a trench, guns at the ready—except for me, since I don’t shoot.
Angel spotted the blood on Tex’s shirt and gasped. “You’ve been shot!” She dropped her rifle to take a better look, but Tex gently removed her hand.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he said. “Glass got me, not a bullet.” Then he turned to me. “Sarah, you need to be armed, dumpling.”
I stared at him uncomprehendingly. Angel took a handgun out of a side holster and handed it to me. “We’re gonna need you, Sarah.”
“I—I’ve only had a few lessons,” I said, weakly.
She placed the heavy pistol in my hand. “Just aim and shoot when you need to,” she said, quietly. “It’s already chambered. Remember what we taught you—when a bullet’s chambered, it’s ready. Don’t aim it until you’re gonna use it and don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re gonna shoot.”
“Here they are!” Richard cried.
The gang of marauders appeared, descending upon the cabin with hoots and shouts that made my blood curdle. I held up the gun with a sense of unreality. How could this be happening? It couldn’t be, because I, Sarah Weaver, did not take part in real battles. Sarah Weaver was an anxious, fear-filled teenager with enough insecurities for ten girls. I was the one to have panic attacks when alone; the one who’d been taking anti-depressants for two years—until the pulse stopped that. But I took the pistol, heart pounding in my throat.
I saw a dark figure approaching through the jagged window. Brief blurs rushed past as the hoots and shouts picked up. Tex and Richard were taking shots, deafening blasts that made me wince despite the ear plugs. Then we heard whacks at the doors—axes hitting the wood from both the front and back of the cabin! Tex said, “That ain’t gonna work; they’ll hit rebar. And we got three inch screws in those joints. Nothing’s gonna break those doors in.”
His words did not remove my fear or the pounding of my heart. But as I raised the cold metal gun with shaking hands, I knew: This was reality now. This was life, and there was no room for the old Sarah. I could not allow myself to crumple in weakness or fear.
“Can we pray?” I gasped.
“I am praying,” breathed Angel.
Richard looked at me. I felt myself blush, knowing how he scoffed at God and prayer. He’d left because of his aversion to God. Would he mock me? Show his disgust, as he had before? To my surprise, he nodded. And then said words that amazed me.
“I’m praying, too.”
Chapter 3
SARAH
The four of us remained hunkered down behind our makeshift protection while Angel prayed aloud.
“Amen,” I said, afterward, followed by Tex, and then—to my delight—by Richard! My heart glowed with the thought that for some reason, though he’d had to return to us beaten, admitting defeat—his attitude to the Lord had somehow softened. I couldn’t wait to hear his story but right now the unnerving sounds of axes and hammers—or whatever they were using—pounding the walls and doors made it hard to think of anything except what was happening outside. My whole body seemed to throb with each whack.
Suddenly we heard more metallic thuds instead of the sharp whacks or sounds of wood splintering, which had been common at first.
“They’re hitting the rebar,” said Tex.
Around the windows we also heard whacks and thuds—they were trying every possible opening to get inside. At least the gunfire had ceased. When I asked why they weren’t shooting, Tex said, “I don’t think they have bullets to spare—that’s good news for us.” Then, after another minute of waiting, he said, “I’ve got an idea.” He rose cautiously and disappeared down the hallway.
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br /> I peeked above the top edge of the table and saw, from time to time, an intruder rush past. Each one looked fierce, holding some kind of weapon such as an axe or shovel, and with faces painted in camo or black. They held things I didn’t recognize too, but which looked like tools. Whenever a blur rushed past, Richard sent shots out after it.
“They’ve got men down,” he said. He quickly drew the mag from his rifle and pulled another from a side pocket and shoved it into place. “Maybe they’ll start to have second thoughts.” There were whacks still coming against the wall between the window and door. Peering outside carefully from beside the window, Richard suddenly stuck out his head and let loose with the gun, aiming right towards whoever was out there against the house.
He took three shots and then hurried to pull himself in again. To my horror, I saw he had just dodged being hit by a heavy axe which whammed down on the windowsill where it became lodged. I’d been frozen in position, still holding the gun. It never even occurred to me to pull the trigger when I saw that figure. My head and my hands were miles apart. But Angel was also in firing position, and no sooner had Richard pulled himself out of the way than she took her shot, dropping the would-be assassin with a thud.
The axe remained eerily stuck in the wood. I heard shouting and recognized the sound of women’s voices, which surprised me. Somehow, the idea of murderous marauders had always been of men. But it wasn’t just men—there were women in this raiding party, too! A sickening feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.
While I stood there reflecting, Richard called to Angel for another mag. Suddenly the axe in the window moved—someone had grabbed it! Angel rushed forward, her face grim and determined. When she took her shot, I wasn’t surprised to see the axe handle sway unsteadily for a moment—and then fall.
“Good shot,” Richard said, nodding at Angel. But she looked deeply disturbed. I could tell she hated having to shoot anyone.
Tex finally returned holding a bullhorn in one hand. He stopped by Angel. “Maybe I can talk some sense into these people,” he said.
Richard shook his head. “They’re losing men and they’re still coming at us. Your bullhorn isn’t going to stop them.”
Ignoring him, Tex went beside the window, peering out as best he could. Richard went over to the door, listening intently to the sounds of hacking that were still coming from outside. He raised his gun and aimed—at the door.
“You could hit rebar,” said Tex, “and have that bullet bounce right back at you.”
Richard said, “No. Look.” He nodded at the door, where the head of an axe was just beginning to splinter through. When it was pulled out for the next whack, Richard aimed right at that small opening and sent two bullets out in quick succession. The axe didn’t reappear.
Tex nodded, but he said, “Cease fire for now. I’m going to try and reason with them.”
Richard sniffed and drew back. Tex turned to us. “Stay behind the table there in case they start firing again.” Turning back to the window but keeping to the side, he pointed the bullhorn out.
Attention! Stop your assault! You have lost men and will continue to lose more. This structure is reinforced with steel—you will not be able to take it down.
I liked how his voice took on extra authority through the bullhorn. Tex had a powerful voice to begin with. It may have been hiding a big heart but most people would never know it. Through the bullhorn, he sounded formidable.
Be aware, Tex continued, we are prepared to use chemical weapons that will wipe you out. If you do not cease and desist, we WILL use these weapons! He paused. We heard nothing in response, so he added, Turn around and go back the way you came, NOW. He waited two beats and added, You will have NO survivors!
Turning to us he said, “If this don’t work, we’re bailing out of here.”
“You mean give up?” Richard asked. “I thought we agreed not to give up—we can fight!” He paused. “And there’s no way we can get away from here—they’ve got us surrounded by now or they’re idiots.”
“If they keep hacking at these walls, rebar or not, they will get through,” said Tex. “We are not impregnable.”
“If they hack at the walls, we shoot them through the walls.”
“That sounds good, Richard, but if they breach a wall, get inside, we are bound to get hurt—or killed. I can’t have that.”
I had a horrible thought. “What if they burn us down?” I’d never forget the somber memory of how Richard and I had been burned out of a wonderful, food-rich home. Before that, we’d been burned out of our apartment—right after the pulse happened—and then out of that well-supplied house, which was like a sanctuary. The burning of homes and businesses seemed to be the new order of the day. That last house had been filled with stored food and other supplies—things marauders would want—but foreign soldiers had heartlessly burned it. This band wasn’t military but what if they resorted to the same tactic? No amount of steel-reinforced walls could save us, then. We were so packaged up inside this place that we’d burn right down with the house. We were trapped like rats.
Angel had been watching through the window. “Wait a minute, I think they’re leaving!” she hissed.
I glanced outside. “They are!” I counted ten people walking quickly away from the cabin, back the way they’d come. Only a small circle of them remained, two men and a woman wearing a green knit hat. They stood, glancing back and forth at us, conferring. I wondered why anyone would wear a hat in late June, but had no time to think about it further because Tex’s voice boomed out again.
You have been warned! You have ten seconds to retreat! This chemical agent will rapidly cause death! He started a countdown. Ten! Nine! Eight!...
The circle of marauders glanced at us but continued their little pow-wow. One man seemed to be the leader, as he was doing the talking. I felt breathless with anxiety as we waited to see if Tex’s bluff would work. What if they didn’t buy it? What if they set fire to us? Could we really fall back on their Plan B? What sort of plan could possibly help us out of such a jam?
Five! Four!
The leader gave a mock salute. And then, right before our eyes, they started away, back towards the woods, the way they’d come. Angel peeped, “Praise God!”
But I froze in a stupor of confusion and sorrow. That man’s salute—it was exactly the gesture my dad used to give me when I argued a point with him successfully. Most of the time I didn’t win an argument with either of my parents, but if I had a really good point—such as why the family should make a certain purchase or not go on a particular vacation—my dad would concede defeat with a mock salute. In the past, it made me or Richard smile—it conveyed a measure of respect, even if only a small measure. Now, the gesture filled me with a stab of grief. If only that stupid man hadn’t done that! It made me think of my father and remember, with a hollow ache, that I missed him terribly.
Richard touched my arm. He’d seen the salute, too. “It’s okay,” he said, as I blinked tearfully at him. “Don’t let it get to you. It’s just a coincidence.”
“Don’t worry, Sarah, they’re leaving!” Angel repeated, not understanding what upset me. I heard Tex give out a big sigh—he was as relieved as any of us. But then, while we watched, three men appeared from around back.
Three! Two! Tex resumed his count. I noticed then I was covered in cold sweat. Was I about to have a panic attack? After months without one—the worst months of my life and with more reason to panic than ever—I’d stopped having attacks. But right now I felt one coming on. I wasn’t really surprised. Even though I was no longer that old Sarah, the new me couldn’t handle this! A real battle, with real guns and people dying—and an eerie reminder of my father!
As the men argued, Tex barked out, ONE! Your time is up! I held my breath as we watched. And then, oh, the relief, as the stragglers, the last of them, turned tail and took off running. The leader and the woman in the hat had lingered, waiting for these last few men, motioning for them to follow the others
. They now joined the line of retreat, the woman in the rear.
“Thank God!” I said. My hands and head were clammy, and my stomach, queasy. But they turned back! And they hadn’t burned us down. And we hadn’t had to resort to the mysterious Plan B. We were alive and well.
Except, perhaps, for Kole.
I pulled out my earplugs and glanced at Richard. I tried to give him a smile but knew it wavered. I wanted to curl up and cry tears of relief, really. But suddenly a shot, so close and loud and unexpected that I gasped and fell, shattered that small window of relief. It was Angel! For a moment I could only gape, scowling at her in shock, while my ears rang. She, in turn, was frozen in shooting position, her rifle still pointed out, poised as if to shoot again. She had a look on her face such as I’d never seen before. And then she seemed shaken, blinking back tears.
Tex stared at her in consternation, and then back out the window. “Hon! They were retreating! And you hit a woman!”
“Why’d you shoot?” I cried.
While we watched, the leader and another man turned back, holding their hands up in a gesture of surrender. They bent over the fallen figure. In a moment they lifted her to a sitting position and then the second man hauled her up and over his shoulder. The leader stared back at us scowling, it seemed to me. I didn’t blame him—Angel had gone against Tex’s word. Even though they were retreating, she’d shot one of them.
Angel wiped away a tear. “That woman was wearing Doris’s hat! That means they’ve killed Doris! She would never give up that hat willingly!” I’d met Doris and her husband Tim, old friends of the McAllisters. They were the nearest neighbors to the right, after a quarter mile of woods. They were not as prepared as the McAllisters with defenses but had stored a great deal of beans and rice and other food stuffs. They knew how to bypass the traps and reach the cabin safely but hadn’t been by lately. Angel had expressed concern about them, since we hadn’t seen them for a couple of weeks.
The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set Page 61