The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  “Yeah. See anything?”

  “No.” I knew Andrea didn’t mean ‘anything’ when she said ‘anything.’ What she really meant was did I see any sign of Roper and Jared coming back? Or her mother and Mr. Washington? Many times, I’d found her searching the landscape from this window, hoping to see them. Some days she even goes up to the watchtower for a better view. (That’s our attic. Lookouts are up there 24/7—especially Marcus and Bryce—so we dubbed it the watchtower.)

  “They’ve been gone almost a month,” Andrea said, wrenching me from my thoughts. “I hope they brought enough food.”

  I said, “They’ve got hardtack.”

  “But how long could that last?”

  “They used hardtack on ships for centuries and even during the Civil War. Men carried it for months and it didn’t go bad.”

  “Really?” She seemed impressed. “Why don’t we use it? Instead of having to bake every week?”

  I glanced at her. “Because it tastes like dust. It’ll keep you alive but it’s not exactly yummy.”

  Andrea sighed. We fell silent for a few minutes. Then she said, “I wish we could go back.”

  I instantly understood what she meant because now and then one of us would utter those same words. Back to the past, to the days before the pulse. “I know.” I missed modern comforts, of course, but in truth, Andrea had lost a lot more than we’d ever had on the farm, not to mention losing her parents. The expensive house and fancy clothes were just the start. Life was nightmarish in some ways for everyone now, but for Andrea, it was like, irreversible. We had hope that maybe one day the United States would re-organize, that power would return, and life would be mostly peaceful again. But Andrea’s parents weren’t going to reappear, ever.

  I put my hand on top of one of hers and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t say anything, but she sighed again, and I knew she’d understood my sympathy. I tried to think of something we could do, something that might bring her hope.

  “Hey,” I said. “Why don’t we pray for Roper? And Jared?”

  “Okay. Let’s pray they come back—tomorrow!”

  “Good idea,” I said. We faced each other and held hands. There in the dark we lifted up the two men before the Lord. We ended up praying for a lot of other things too, like for electricity to return, and for law and order. We both cried. And then we returned to bed.

  Sometimes I get really mad at Andrea, but I do love her.

  Lord, send Roper back—like, tomorrow!

  Chapter 24

  ROPER

  The men waited until dusk to finally approach the barn. Crouching in the tall brush, they’d watched in silence as two head of cattle were brought in for the night—but not, to their surprise, to the barn. The animals were taken inside a walk-out basement.

  “S’the only way to keep ‘em safe,” said Jared. “But that means the barn is open season.”

  “Look,” Roper said, “Open season, it’s not. We’re only taking stuff if it looks like they’re not using it.”

  Jared’s usual look of disdain settled upon Roper. “Sure. Whatever you say, preacher.”

  I’m not a preacher, Roper thought, but boy, you sure need one. As soon as the farmer had disappeared into the basement with the animals, the men went quickly across the road and climbed the fence, carefully because Jared had to stop and use his bolt cutters to clear barbed wire.

  “Whoa, you came equipped,” Roper murmured.

  “What’d you expect?” Jared asked.

  They headed to the barn. There was a lock-and-bolt on it, but Jared swung his backpack off and again pulled out the heavy bolt cutter. After he cut the bolt they hurried inside, pulling the door shut behind them. The lantern revealed a medium-sized interior which might have held up to six animals at one time. The stalls were empty now, clean but for a light layer of straw. Jared began rummaging around like a woman at the annual Christmas clearance sale. Meanwhile, Roper took note of the obvious stuff: a few bales of hay against a wall, some dead farm equipment, perhaps a thresher, but it was rusty and ancient looking; a dead 1980s car, dirty buckets, the empty stalls, the still present scent of manure, and an old hand-plow and manual mower. Piles of wires, cabling, ropes, and oil cans. No fertilizer, no stump remover, no saltpeter.

  “So this was a wash,” Roper said, on their way out.

  “Not completely,” said Jared, who had tucked something into his backpack. “We’ll try another, and then another, and keep on trying, until we hit gold. I am not going back without getting what I came for.” Roper considered those words as they crept back to the brush line and their horse. He had visions of having to be out for days and days yet, maybe weeks, if it took that long, and he didn’t like the thought. “Look, dead cars are everywhere. Like I said before, why don’t we just pull the airbag initiators—you said that could do it for you.” Jared was silent. They started for the road as the hazy dusk of a summer night began to fall. “Maybe we should do that,” he said finally, to Roper’s surprise.

  “Great!” he said. “Let’s just check out Andrea’s house, first. Once I pull the airbags, we want to get them back as soon as possible, nice and gentle like. The less carting about the better. So let’s do that on the way back.”

  Jared nodded. “Fine. We’ll check any barns on the way, just in case. Can’t hurt.”

  The sky was inky black, lit with stars, but dark on the ground when they found Andrea’s house. It was in the same condition all the other houses in the plat that they’d passed were in: burned out, windows broken, ghostly looking. Not surprisingly, the door was unlocked. Looters had surely preceded them there.

  Both men switched on flashlights as they entered, Roper leading their horse right across the threshold. They came to a halt inside, listening and sweeping their lights across the dark interior. The air was thick with the smell of smoke. Roper brought up his bandana to cover his mouth and nose.

  Hearing nothing, they explored further, the flashlights leading the way. “It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Roper said, softly. Jared didn’t bother to reply but the signs of ruined grandeur filled Roper with pity and sadness. Such a waste! The sheer size of the rooms, the granite counters and tiled floor in the kitchen, dirty and blackened except for small areas that had somehow escaped the fire’s fury, spoke silently of the luxury that once was. The staircase was blanketed with ash and debris but Roper, for some reason, brushed it away on a step and sighed. “This is marble,” he said, impressed.

  “Was,” said Jared, moving cautiously past Roper.

  “Still is,” Roper murmured to himself. He followed Jared, then, mirroring his example by drawing his pistol though he still felt averse to the idea of shooting first and asking questions later. They did a quick reconnaissance of the first floor, locked any doors that led outside or to the garage or basement, and then circled back to the wide staircase. They left the horse tied to the banister with handfuls of hay—that last barn had held plenty of it.

  Upstairs they entered a bedroom—it seemed the fire hadn’t reached this room but only smoke and ash. Looters had reached it. Blankets and sheets were absent from the beds, dresser drawers were opened with items hanging out here and there, dusted with ash.

  Roper examined the contents of the drawers, looking for anything Andrea might want. He started stuffing his pack with lingerie and socks.

  Jared turned harsh eyes to him. “We’re looking for Andrea’s mother, not girly stuff. Why are you so eager to waste time on non-essentials?”

  Roper didn’t flinch or stop but continued adding things to his bag: scarves, belts, hair accessories, dirty as they were. Finally he turned to Jared. “Because,” he said, patiently, “Essentials enable us to live; but non-essentials make life worth living.” He paused. “Besides, girls love this stuff. Why not get some?”

  Jared’s eyes didn’t soften. He said, “Just don’t EVER tell me you don’t got room for the essentials because of that garbage.”

  Just then they heard the sound of distant gunfire.
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br />   “Get that light out,” Jared ordered. “C’mon, let’s get near a window and get a look outside.”

  “I can’t see a thing without the light,” Roper said, switching his flashlight back on.

  “Turn it off!” Jared repeated. “Your eyes will adjust!”

  The men waited, listening, exiting the room slowly. It was a south-facing bedroom, and the shots seemed to be coming from the other direction, so they worked their way to another room that faced the front. One of the windows was still intact. They crept up and peered out. The world was black. Faint lights appeared here and there, flickering, distant, coming in and out of view.

  They heard no more shots. “Might’ve been someone hunting,” Roper said. “Got himself a raccoon or something.”

  “Maybe,” said Jared. “Just in case something’s coming our way, we’ll spend the night here. Take turns keeping watch.”

  Chapter 25

  ROPER

  There was no gunfire to be heard the rest of the night. Roper spent his watch time in prayer and thinking about Andrea and this big house. Jared had done a quick sweep of the remaining rooms on the second floor, and together they’d gone down to the basement to check it out. There was no sign of Mrs. Patterson or Mr. Washington, no sign that they’d ever been there. Roper did not relish the moment when he’d have to give Andrea the disappointing news. He’d try to minimize details of the damage to the house—let her remember it as it had been, before the pulse.

  They kept watch for an hour after daylight, but when the street remained quiet, they headed out. They didn’t bother searching homes adjacent to the Patterson’s because most were mere shells, their wooden exteriors nothing more than charred remains. A few other brick edifices were in the plat, but upon closer inspection, they were burned out on the inside, too.

  A dead Mercedes was in the driveway, its windows smashed out and tires slashed. “I’ll grab the initiators,” Roper said. Jared stood nearby, letting the horse graze on the tall grass of the lawn. In twenty minutes, ten of which were spent merely waiting after disconnecting the battery to be sure the juice was cut—he had the items. He wrapped them carefully in a scarf he’d taken from the house and put the package gingerly in his backpack.

  As they headed out of the plat, Roper said, “I sure wish we could stop whoever’s doing this.” He motioned at the sad remains of houses. “Destroying everything—for what?”

  “It’s foreigners,” put in Jared. “Soldiers, like the ones who came against us. They do it to demoralize a population. They know it’s easier to control people if they’ve lost hope.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Jared shrugged. “It’s a classic form of guerrilla warfare.”

  “Man, why isn’t the army coming against them? Even if they have tanks, like the reports are saying, all we need is a couple of anti-tank guns. Aren’t there anti-tank guns? If only we could get one of those.”

  “Yeah, they’re just sitting around for the taking!” Jared replied, his eyes never leaving the road in front of them.

  “Look, I’m trying to be helpful here...you got anything other than sarcasm? Because that’s not helpful.”

  Jared studied him silently for a moment. “What we need is air power. Our military has it…but doesn’t look like they’ve brought it home.”

  “Brought it home?”

  Jared nodded. “From our bases around the globe. That weren’t hit by the pulse. We know it wasn’t global, the EMP. Our compound has had contact via ham radio with Australia and New Zealand, and they say the EMP only affected our continent, and Greenland and Iceland. So the fact that we haven’t seen U.S. air power means they haven’t sent it. If it’s true what we heard about a mile of foreign army trucks entering the country from Canada, we need that air power. A squadron or two of F-16s would do the job. We need ‘em now.”

  “So how can we get them?”

  Jared snorted. “Try becoming the Secretary of Defense. Even generals can’t send help unless they get the Secretary’s okay, and he needs it from the President. So the President hasn’t authorized it. That’s the only conclusion you can make.”

  “But how long are they gonna let these foreign invaders terrorize the country, man? They gotta do something! That’s the role of government.”

  “What is?”

  “According to God the primary role of government is to protect its citizenry. That is their primary function, their sole reason for being. If they’re not fulfilling that function they shouldn’t be in existence!” Suddenly Roper’s eyes flashed. “Government was instituted by God so people can live in peace. In a sinful planet you’ve gotta have government but if they turn on their own people they forfeit their right to exist. Then it’s tyranny, not government! And if our government could be helping us but isn’t then they are not doing their job!” He punctuated his words with his free arm by slashing it through the air for emphasis, and kicked a rock out of his way with surprising force.

  Jared nodded. “That’s about the first thing you’ve said that makes sense. But who knows what our government is up to right now. Working out some kind of treaty or concessions, no doubt. Giving up our sovereignty as a nation! That’s been coming a long time thanks to the U.N.. Now they’ve probably got us over a barrel.” He shook his head. “The globalists are probably loving this! We’ve had enough chaos to bring the U.S. to its knees—right where they’ve always wanted us.”

  “It sure seems that way,” Roper agreed. “I don’t follow politics closely, but—.” His words were cut off by a sudden shot which sent both men running for cover with the horse in tow. They had passed the last house and were on a stretch of road that led to the main road. It was lined with trees on one side—from which the shot had come—and, on the other side, nothing but an overgrown field. They were out in the open and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.

  Another shot sounded, frighteningly close, as they dropped to the ground in the field. The horse remained a standing target.

  “How do you get a horse to lie down?” hissed Roper.

  “I don’t think you can,” Jared replied.

  “Man, if they hurt this horse too--!” seethed Roper. “I’m starting to get really angry.”

  Jared’s face broke into a semblance of a grin. “It’s about time! If this junk don’t make you angry, I don’t know what would.”

  They had their rifles out, pointing them towards the trees. “Someone is either a very bad shot,” Jared said, his eyes alert and watching the trees, “or they just wanted to scare us.”

  After waiting for what felt like a long time and seeing no movement, Jared said, “We can’t stay here. I’m gonna send a few shots over there, and then you’re gonna follow me. Keep low.” He paused. “But leave the horse.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They can’t see us in this grass. If the horse moves with us, they’ll know exactly where we are. Leave her.”

  “We’re gonna need her. And what about our stuff?”

  “We’ll get her back!”

  “You hope so!” Roper took off the saddle bags, sighed, and dropped the reins.

  “She’s gonna run when I shoot. So let her run.”

  “Look, if anyone was there, they just had an open shot at me and didn’t take it.” Ignoring him, Jared peered through the sight on his rifle, took aim and then crossed the tree line spraying shots steadily. Just as he’d expected, the mare whinnied and took off behind them. There was no return fire. Staying well within the tall grasses and brush, they started creeping back toward the houses where there was cover.

  The first home was a burned-out brick shell, enough to offer protection. When they got as close as they could in the grass, they stood up and made a run for it.

  Minutes crawled past as they kept watch. Half an hour later they saw the horse in the field, her head rising above the brush, munching. Apparently she hadn’t run very far, or maybe got slowed by loose reins. Now she was grazing but slowly meandering in their direction. />
  “Man, we are wasting time,” Roper muttered, pulling out a piece of jerky. “I’m almost out of rations, by the way.”

  “Patience,” said Jared. “Sometimes a fight comes down to who is gonna be the most patient.”

  “They are gone,” returned Roper. “We are waiting on—nothing!”

  “We don’t know that,” said Jared.

  Roper eyed his companion. “So why don’t we find out?”

  Thirty minutes later Roper and Jared had worked their way down the street all the way back to the Patterson’s house, staying behind the houses. At the end of the street they crossed over so that now they were on the same side as the stand of trees from where the shots had come.

  Using the same method, staying behind anything that gave cover, they slowly worked their way towards the area. When they reached the last house there was only brush and grass between them and the stand of trees.

  “We’re gonna have to crawl or we’ll be seen,” Jared said.

  Roper sighed. “Let’s do it.”

  Within fifteen minutes they stood up in the middle of the trees.

  And they were alone.

  Across the street the mare was visible near the edge of the road, still cropping at the grass. “I’m gonna get her,” Roper said, laying down saddle bags and his backpack.

  “Good luck with that,” Jared replied. “She ain’t your horse. Heck, she ain’t mine, either. She’s not gonna come to us.”

  “I gotta try.”

  “We already lost most of the day, so why not?” His voice was tinged with its usual sarcasm. “Fine. I’ll cover you.”

  Roper strode casually across the street. He would’ve hurried so as not to be out in the open but he didn’t want to spook the horse. On the way, he prayed.

  When he got within a few feet, the mare raised her head and surveyed him. Her eyes looked alarmed but he spoke softly and slowly crept closer. “Lord, I’m asking you to let me get this horse.” Then, “That’s a girl! Whoa, nice and easy, girl.” The lead-rope was hanging at her side. Just as he made a lunge for it, she whinnied and reared up. Roper got beside her and she came back down and quieted. He stroked her neck and spoke softly to her again.