The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  Waiting, hearts thudding, they listened. The ceiling of the van faced the road so they couldn’t see what was coming but they heard it. Seconds stretched out, taut as a high-tension wire, while the noise grew—and then suddenly, it was past, the rumbling getting fainter.

  “Sounded like one of those trucks,” Simmons said. “We’d better wait in case there’s more.” After a pause he added, “And hope they’re not on their way to attack the compound.”

  Roper eyed him gravely. “We’ll see,” he said.

  As they sat in silence, the baby whimpered again. Roper rocked the child in his arms. Mr. Simmons stared. “You ought to put that thing back where you found it. Leave it with its mother.”

  Roper shook his head. “This is a child, not a thing; not an ‘it.’ And I’m not leaving it, so forget that idea.”

  Simmons grinned. “You just called it, it.”

  Roper made a face. “Fine.” He unwrapped the baby, took a look and then wrapped it up again. “It’s a she. I’m not leaving her.” But that brief unveiling had not been to the infant’s liking, and she now let out a much louder cry which led to prolonged crying. Roper went into fast-action rocking but he was bewildered. He shifted the baby first one way and then another, up and down, back and forth, but the crying continued.

  “Now look what you did!” cried Mr. Simmons.

  “It’s your fault!” Roper returned. “Calling her an it!”

  “What is wrong with her?” Simmons demanded, in agitation.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her lungs,” Roper said. But suddenly both men were as disturbed as if they were under attack. The wailing of a newborn was about as alarming for them as a battle cry.

  “Quiet her down! What if another truck comes by?” They were hissing at each other, trying to keep their voices down, though the baby had no such inhibition.

  “She must be hungry!” Roper hissed.

  “Should we give her some hard tack?”

  “No!” Roper thought frantically. “Get my water! I’ll give her that.”

  “Good! At least I’ll get out of here!” cried Simmons. With a grunt he got himself up, and then, after shouldering the heavy door of the van, got it to swing open. Then, using the door frame for leverage, he pulled himself out and dropped to the ground. The van door swung shut with a bang. Suddenly, with unmistakable clarity, they heard the grinding sound of another truck.

  “Great!” Simmons muttered. He took cover behind the van. The truck’s approaching noise grew louder. Inside, Roper tried frantically to quiet the baby—to no avail.

  Chapter 42

  ROPER

  With the sound of the vehicle getting closer and a bawling baby in his arms, Roper got an idea. Seconds later, the baby’s wailing ceased suddenly.

  The truck’s approaching noise grew louder—went by—and moved on. Simmons poked his head in the door. “How’d you shut her up?”

  Roper lifted the bundle in his arms, revealing a little baby sucking contentedly—on his pinky finger.

  Simmons was impressed. “Good idea.”

  Roper climbed carefully into the front and gingerly reclaimed his finger, hoping the infant wouldn’t cry. To his relief, she yawned and went back to sleep.

  “Get the airbag while you’re in there,” Simmons said.

  “I’m not pulling an airbag with an infant in this vehicle,” Roper returned. Checking now, he was surprised the bags weren’t already deployed, for the van must have landed violently when it fell to its present position. But no, there wasn’t a spent bag in sight. Simmons was watching, and his outstretched hands appeared in the door opening.

  “Take Hope,” Roper, said, as he deposited the baby into them. “And be careful.”

  “Take hope? What’re you talking about?”

  Roper stuck his face out the door, and grinned. “That’s her name. Hope!”

  As Simmons looked down at the baby who was starting to fuss, Roper added, “And give her your pinky finger if she cries.” He gave Roper a look of perplexity before returning a gaze of distaste to the infant.

  Sheesh, thought Roper. Hadn’t the man ever held his own children? “Move away from the van!” he called, now. “Get at least ten feet out!”

  Mr. Simmons did so, watching the little bundle in his arms. After staring down at the baby, he gingerly raised a finger and pushed down the material around her face. In a high, soft voice, he said, “Hey, little one, it’s okay. Mr. Simmons gotcha.”

  Meanwhile, Roper started working the bolts around the steering wheel. In two minutes he’d removed the device, which was, like the others, round, and the size of a small salad bowl. He eyed the passenger side dashboard and called to Simmons. “I’ll pull the passenger bag, too.”

  Passenger airbags were trickier, since there wasn’t a single standard installation method. But he knew what to look for. He had to pull the CD player first, and then the glove-box. In a few minutes he had the device, and motioned for Simmons to come take both of them.

  “Gentle!” he ordered. “Just put them down gently until I get out of here. Keep them away from the baby!”

  He pulled himself up and out with some difficulty, deciding as he landed heavily on his feet not to bother with overturned vehicles any more.

  Simmons was holding the baby awkwardly, looking worried. It would have been comical except Roper was worried, too. He was still trying to wipe out the image of the dead girl in the van, but he didn’t want to let her down by failing to save her baby.

  Simmons said, “What if those trucks are attacking the compound?” He held out the infant. “Here. She’s all yours.”

  Roper blinked, thinking. “If they were attacking, we’d be hearing gunfire.” He added, “Keep her until I stow these things. And then you’re gonna have to carry my pack.”

  “What if the soldiers are just removing the obstacles we put out front? That would take some time.”

  “Jared put mines in that obstacle field” Roper said. “If they hit one, we’ll know about it.”

  “I didn’t hear about any mines! I think you’re wrong—he wants to put mines there. But first we need to get enough of these things to blow out the bridge.”

  Roper zipped up his pack. It held twelve initiators. Putting it back down, he held out his hands for the baby.

  “Put your pack on, first,” Simmons said.

  Roper shook his head. “Not if I’m carrying an infant. If you carry her, I’ll take the pack. Otherwise, you get the pack.”

  Simmons handed over infant Hope. He picked up Roper’s pack and would have swung it across his back, but Roper cried, “Easy! Don’t swing the airbags, man! These babies are volatile! How many times do I have to warn you? Did you even see Jared’s arm?”

  Simmons nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  They kept to the side of the road or off-road where they could, as they hurried back towards the compound. The baby slept against Roper’s chest, held up by one hand.

  When they reached the culvert, they stopped to check it out. Roper wished now he’d stopped on the way out but he’d been anxious to get what they needed and figured they’d stop later. He hadn’t counted on having a baby in tow while doing so. Carefully picking their way down the slope, they stood at the edge of the running stream that was there, peering around beneath the bridge to find the perfect spot to place the package that Roper was yet to prepare.

  “There’s plenty of room to hide an explosive,” Simmons said. “C’mon. We’re done, here. Let’s get us some more initiators. I’d say we have two hours yet before it gets dark.”

  Roper said, “We have all we’re getting. This baby’s going home to get looked after.” He looked down at the infant, who gave a soft whimper. Worriedly, he said, “She must be weak. We haven’t fed her anything. I think she oughta be squalling.”

  “She was squalling loud enough before,” Simmons returned. “Besides, newborns are supposed to sleep a lot. We can let her sleep while we finish what we came out here for.”

  “
Life first,” said Roper. “Baby goes back to the compound. Then we get more if we need to.”

  chapter 43

  ANDREA

  I was taking down laundry from the line when I saw Mr. Martin hurrying down the hill from the lookout shack. His face looked serious. My heart skipped a beat. I thought it might have to do with Blake.

  “Mr. Martin! What’s up?”

  He met my eyes, looking as if he was trying to decide whether or not to tell me. “Roper and Simmons are back.”

  I gathered up the clothes and tore to the house. Inside, I dropped them in a heap on the sofa. Mrs. Martin would chew me out for doing so but I didn’t care. Roper was back!

  Last time the men had been out, they’d returned through the woods on the side, so I ran back outside and made a beeline in that direction. I couldn’t believe my luck! Roper was good at getting the gadgets we needed but his speed this time was really impressive! I was smiling with anticipation when I saw Lexie running out of the Buchanan’s cabin. I came to an anxious halt. Was there bad news about Blake? But as she got close, I saw she was grinning!

  “He’s awake and okay!” she cried, coming up to me. Tears were brimming in her eyes—tears of joy. “I’m going back but I just wanted to let everyone know! Blake’s awake and he seems fine! Tell the others, okay?”

  “I will! And Roper and Mr. Simmons are back!”

  She gasped in surprise and we smiled at each other and then hugged. “Praise God!” I whispered, as we embraced.

  As Lexie ran back towards the Buchanan’s cabin, I saw Mr. Wasserman coming. “So they’re back?” he asked, rubbing his chin. He didn’t look happy.

  “Yes! Isn’t it great?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well; we saw two army trucks go by before, and I don’t think there’s any way those two could have collected enough initiators that fast. Let’s hope they’re not back with bad news.” This dampened my enthusiasm but I was still secretly glad to have Roper back whether we had the gadgets we needed or not.

  And then, coming off the horse trail, was Roper, Mr. Simmons, Mr. Martin, and Mr. Prendergast. Roper was carrying something—holding it carefully against his chest, but I had no clue what it could be. I ran up to him, a big smile on my face—and then halted in shock when I saw what he carried.

  “Is that—?”

  “A baby,” he said, smiling gently.

  Mrs. Martin was suddenly there. “Oh, my! Oh, my!” she said, taking the infant from Roper. “Where—How?” she asked, hardly knowing what to ask, first.

  “Meet Hope,” Roper said, proudly. But then he frowned. “I think she needs medical care. And food. Pronto.”

  “Tell me later, then,” Mrs. Martin said. “I’ll take care of her.” And she whirled off with the baby towards the house while I stared after her in amazement. A baby!

  Roper and I shared a hug, and then he kissed me with a quick touch on my lips. “I’m so glad you’re back,” I said. “But where’s the mother?” I actually felt a tinge of jealousy towards this woman, whoever she was, because she’d allowed Roper to take her baby. She must have trusted him. Had he witnessed the birth? Did he know this woman? What if he’d known her since before the pulse? It was astonishing, all the jealous questions and thoughts that flew through my head at light-speed. I don’t know what all I was thinking in that few seconds when I was trying to grasp the situation but he said, “She didn’t make it.”

  “Oh.” That changed everything. I went from feeling jealous to feeling ashamed.

  Mr. Simmons spoke to Mr. Martin as we went towards the house and Roper told me how they’d found the child. “It was a miracle, if you think about it,” he said. “If we hadn’t come along when we did, the baby would have died with her mother.”

  In the house we found Mrs. Philpot and Mrs. Martin feeding the infant from a bottle. Someone had put away the clothing I’d left—probably Cecily—so I went to get a better look at the baby. Her face was so tiny! I can’t remember Lily being that small, and now that I see a newborn, I realize Lily is actually large at nine months!

  “So her name is Hope?” asked Mrs. Philpot. “Did the mother tell you that?”

  “No. She was gone before we got there,” Roper said.

  Mr. Martin entered the room and said, “Good news.” Smiling, he added, “Blake is going to be just fine!”

  I’d forgotten to spread the word about Blake! After we cheered and the “Praise the Lord’s” had all been said, Roper asked, “How’s Jared doing?”

  “Not much change there,” said Mr. Martin. “We’re still waiting.”

  Mr. Simmons had washed up and grabbed something to eat. Still chewing, he came into the room. “Listen folks, I know you’re all baby happy. But we cut short our mission on account of that child.”

  Mr. Martin said, “I don’t blame Roper for stopping to save an infant’s life.”

  “We heard two trucks go by,” said Mr. Simmons. “They were probably the same outfit that attacked us in the spring.”

  “We saw them,” said Mr. Prendergast. “They went right on by.”

  “Look, I’m gonna play devil’s advocate in Jared’s place.” He made a face. “It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.” He swung his gaze at Mr. Prendergast. “So those trucks didn’t stop. That’s great! But they could have! We need to get our supplies and take that bridge out! Once we get what we need, then Roper can indulge his tender little feelings for a baby! But he interrupted our mission!”

  Mr. Buchanan had come in at some point and was standing, listening. “We just got good word today,” he said, “that Washington is back in business. From what I understand, they are mobilizing our forces. We should see help soon from our military!”

  “Sweeet dreams!” said Mr. Simmons. “Who are they gonna mobilize? The National Guard? It’s the Guard’s job to defend home soil—have you seen any of ‘em? They were just as unprepared as most folks when the pulse hit. Even if they survived this long, and even IF Washington is back up, how are they gonna mobilize a force they can’t contact? They can’t call up the Guard, when the Guard don’t have phones!”

  “They can pull men from around the globe,” said Mr. Buchanan. “We’ve got bases all over this planet and there are people manning those bases. They can be pulled back to our shores.”

  “If they could be,” he asked, spreading out his hands, “then where are they?” He looked around. “Let me tell you something about our global army.” He paused, surveying the room as though to be sure he had everyone’s attention. (I couldn’t believe my ears. It was like Mr. Simmons was channeling Jared—except I don’t believe in channeling, of course! But it was eerie how much he sounded like the ex-soldier.)

  “One,” he continued, “You don’t know for a fact that the pulse wasn’t global.”

  “We do know,” said Mr. Buchanan. “We’ve got contacts in places that weren’t affected.”

  “So they say,” he retorted. “But regardless—most of the people the army has around the world aren’t infantrymen—ground fighters. You got tech guys, and pilots—you got administration and commanders and navy. You got nuclear subs—they aren’t gonna be a lot of help to us here in the heart of the country. You following me? We haven’t seen any F-16s going by or F-15s or any aircraft capable of taking down an enemy target. We haven’t seen any aircraft at all—or ANY sign of U.S. military, let’s face it. We’re on our own. And so we have got to think like the military and set up our own protection.” He looked at Roper. “We should’a stuck to the mission and got the job done.”

  “We do have mines out front now,” said Mr. Martin. “Soon as they hit one, they’ll think twice about taking us on; and as for the bridge, we’ll use what we do have and go out there tomorrow and take care of it.”

  “But see, this is what I’m saying—we still don’t have enough of what we need. Take those mines out front—a few mines is not gonna stop the bad guys from demolishing this compound. If they’ve
got the numbers, and if they got Miclicks—um, Jared said Miclicks are ‘rocket projected explosive line charges,’ and they clear an area of mines—then they’ll get through. That’s just plain battle facts.”

  “How do you know so much about battle facts?” asked Roper. “I thought you were a cop.”

  Mr. Simmons said, “I was. But I’ve spent a lot of time picking Jared’s brain about these things.”

  Now I understood why he sounded so much like Jared—he was probably quoting him!

  “You know,” my father said. “Everything you’re saying makes sense, Simmons, but here’s something you left out. This little baby that Roper saved is no less important than any one of us.”

  “Saving one life is stupid when you do it by endangering forty.” He looked down, and scuffed his shoe on the floor. “I’m just being Jared, remember.”

  “I think one Jared is enough for this compound,” said Mrs. Martin, drily.

  “Roper did not endanger us,” my father asserted, calmly. “We’ve made it this far by God’s grace and we’ll make it longer by that same grace. God doesn’t need mines and trenches and blown-up bridges to protect us—He did it in the past when we had none of those things and He can do it again.”

  “No weapon formed against me shall prosper,” quoted Roper, softly.

  “Right,” said Mr. Martin. “It comes down to a matter of faith. So try having some.”

  Mr. Simmons nodded but looked sullen. “I’ll have faith when Roper gets out there again at daybreak and comes back here with another dozen initiators.”

  “Why does Roper have to keep going for them?” I asked, before I could stop myself. My face grew hot so I knew I was blushing. But Mr. Martin said, “Roper, why don’t you teach a few of us men how to do what you’re doing? Andrea’s right. You shouldn’t be the only one responsible for collecting these things.”

  “Sure,” said Roper.

  Before the gathering broke up Mrs. Martin came over to us carrying little Hope and a small glass baby bottle. “Here you go, sir,” she said to Roper, in a jocular tone. “This is sugar water. Just give it to her whenever she’ll take it.” She held out the baby but Roper just stared at her, dumbfounded. “You want me to feed her?”