Through the Storm (The Solar Storms Saga Book 1)

by Kyle Pratt

  Carol’s smile grew as she hurried toward him. They met in the front yard and Neal handed her the letter.

  “Thank you.” Carol tore it open. “Thank you,” she repeated as she read.

  Two teenage boys stepped onto the porch. They appeared to be about the same age as Neal’s sons.

  Guilt welled up in Neal. He had gone to the conference mostly to get away from home and had left his sons alone when they needed him the most. At least Conner was there for Drake.

  Carol turned to the boys. “Your father is okay. He sends his love.” She smiled at Neal. “I’m very grateful you delivered his letter. Can you stay for a while? I don’t have much food, but do you need water? I have water and there’s a comfortable couch in the living room.”

  Neal turned to Pool. “It’s up to you.”

  “That’ll work out fine. The convoy to the bridge will be leaving later this evening. I’ll come back and pick you up.”

  Carol led Neal toward the house as Lieutenant Pool departed.

  “How did you meet Dirk?”

  “Well, he arrested me.”

  She laughed. “You must tell me everything.”

  They walked through the house to the backyard as Neal told his story. In the yard, they tied Ginger with a long rope to a tree.

  “After a soldier looked through my backpack and your husband talked with me … well, I guess he believed me. He wrote notes for General Sattler and for you, and asked me to deliver them.”

  “I appreciate you doing that for him.” She gave Ginger water and then turned. “Follow me and I’ll give you water too.”

  Neal filled his bottles and joined Carol in the living room. He started to make polite conversation, but then leaned back on the couch and sleep soon overtook him.

  Long shadows darkened the living room when Neal awoke. He stood and through the window spotted Carol sitting on the porch. He stepped out and sat in a chair nearby.

  “Your couch is very comfortable.”

  “It’s not mine. Most of the furniture isn’t. The neighbors tell me the couple who lived here were visiting family in Australia.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how they’ll get home.”

  “Well, I’m grateful for the chance to doze on it.”

  “Where have you been sleeping these last few days?”

  “On the ground mostly. I have a tarp and sleeping bag, but it’s still sleeping on the ground.”

  Carol pulled the neatly folded letter from her jean pocket. “Dirk expects the situation to grow much worse before it gets better. You’ve been out there. Is that what you think?”

  Neal’s answer came slowly. “Yes.” He had encountered so much death and violence. “I think it’ll get much worse. Send a letter with the next convoy headed in your husband’s direction. He’ll be relieved to know you’re safe.”

  She grimaced. “Safe? Is there such a thing now?”

  Lieutenant Pool stopped in front of the house. Neal collected Ginger and his backpack, thanked Carol, and departed.

  Sandbags piled against a chain-link fence blocked most of his view of a large modern church just outside the main gate. Several hundred men, women, and children filled the parking lot along the tan, brick two-story building. Dozens more milled about in the road. Soldiers worked to clear the way as the trucks ahead honked and inched forward.

  Neal gazed right and left. “There were only a few people at the other gate. Why are so many here?”

  “The church has been a relief center. They give out food and refer life-threatening medical cases to us. We also act as security around the church, so many refugees stay nearby.”

  Staring at the homeless humanity, Neal nodded.

  The convoy turned onto the main boulevard.

  “Also, we sometimes let people in through this gate,” Pool added.

  “Who?” Neal asked.

  “People with skills we need, like plumbers, electricians, carpenters, and others.”

  Ten men with close-cut hair and multiple tattoos walked across the street in front of the jeep. As Neal watched, they turned toward the gate to the compound.

  “Is the base secure?”

  Pool shrugged. “As secure as it can be, I guess. Securing the perimeter is a continuous project. We’re constructing a fence, using cargo containers, and converting buildings into watchtowers, but it’s less than half complete. I don’t know if we can finish it before things turn really ugly.”

  * * *

  Cle Elum, Washington, Thursday, September 8th

  Conner nudged his way into the laundry room of the Catholic church. He stifled a sneeze as the smell of mold, dust, and old clothes assaulted his nostrils.

  His gear hung from one arm and he carried a bowl in each hand. Two spoons protruded from his jean pocket. Once inside, he pushed the door shut with a foot and looked for Madison. Shelves cluttered with shoes, pants, shirts, and coats donated by locals for the homeless and refugees blocked much of his view.

  “Madison?”

  “Over here.”

  Conner weaved his way toward the sound of splashing and found Madison in the back corner, washing clothes in a deep sink. He held up the bowls. “The last of the stew.”

  As she dried her arms, he stared at the dripping faucet. “I wonder how long it will flow.”

  She shrugged. “Father Dan says the town reservoir is higher in the hills. So, for now, the town has water.”

  Conner passed her a bowl and spoon and then dropped his backpack in the corner. “Speaking of Father Dan, he says we can sleep here again as long as we don’t break any of the commandments.”

  Madison wiped the spoon with her hand. “I wasn’t planning on breaking any … well, any of the ones I know.” She smiled at him and sat on a nearby counter.

  “You can have the sleeping bag. I’ll make a bed with some of these coats.”

  They ate in silence for several minutes. Then Conner held the bowl to his mouth and slurped the last of the stew. “Father Dan thinks it’s safer here and we should stay.”

  “Would you stay here just because it’s safe?” Madison spooned out the last of the broth.

  “No.” Conner unrolled the sleeping bag. “I left my little brother alone. I’ve got to get back to him.” He pointed to the shelves. “Toss me a few coats and I’ll make my bed.”

  “My parents are older. They’re going to need my help.” Madison set both bowls on the counter. “I need to get home to Olympia.” She grinned and tossed a coat at his head.

  Conner caught it with one hand. “Okay, then. Tomorrow at first light we head toward the pass.”

  After throwing several more coats at him, Madison slid into the sleeping bag.

  Conner lay down a couple of feet from her, closed his eyes, and smiled. It felt good to have her close again.

  * * *

  Rural Lewis County, Washington, Thursday, September 8th

  As Drake ran home, he reached into his pocket for the key. Again he had forgotten it. When he neared the house, he took deep breaths and knocked on the door like he would a neighbor’s.

  Hearing Ashley hurry toward the door, Drake waved at the peephole.

  She greeted him with the shotgun in hand but at least not pointed at him.

  Once inside, Drake leaned his rifle in the corner and put the bags beside it. Then he sat on the couch and gestured for Ashley to sit beside him. As the next few minutes passed, Drake talked about all the different and unusual neighbors he had met while walking with Pastor Wayne.

  When he finished, she asked, “What’s in those bags you brought?”

  He grinned, reached over the edge of the couch, and grabbed them. “Stuff from your house that I thought you might like.”

  She pulled out toiletries from her bathroom and then a framed picture of her parents. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I thought it would make you happy.”

  “It did, silly.” She leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “I coul
d get more things.”

  * * *

  Less than an hour later, Drake sat at the back of the old church, counting. Fifty-five. Pastor Wayne wanted to know how many people attended the meeting and counting distracted him from thoughts of Ashley. Fifty-six. He wished there had been more time before the meeting.

  Two more walked in followed by Pastor Wayne.

  “Fifty-eight people are here so far, including Gail and the baby from the trailer with the weird druggie.”

  Pastor Wayne wrote notes on a pad as they both walked toward the front of the church. “I’m glad Gail’s here. How’s Ashley?”

  “Ashley?” Just minutes earlier they had been talking and laughing. Then the church bell had rung and he had left her behind once again. “She’s fine. I wish we didn’t have to guard the property—that it was safer.”

  “That is what this meeting is about.” Pastor Wayne grinned, scribbled more in his notebook.

  Deputy Campbell approached the pastor and whispered. “A lot of people are asking me about food, water, and electricity.”

  Pastor Wayne nodded. “I’d like to know about those too.”

  “I don’t have contact with the outside world, so I don’t have those answers. The utility workers I’ve spoken with tell me we produce only a fraction of our power locally and nothing is coming in from out of the area. They expect the power grid to be down for at least a few months.”

  “And the food situation?” Pastor Wayne asked.

  “Nothing is coming in and every day more people run out of food.”

  “Does anyone have a plan?” Pastor Wayne rubbed his chin. “The city council, sheriff, or the military?”

  The deputy shrugged.

  This guy is Deputy Downer. Drake stepped closer as he listened to the somber words.

  “Beyond that, the jail is running low on food. We’ve started releasing low-risk offenders and gang activity is increasing.”

  This repeated news Drake already new, but it still hit him like a punch in the gut.

  The pastor shook his head. “Don’t tell these people that. They have enough to worry about.” His gaze fell upon Drake. “And not a word of this from you, young man.” The pastor returned his gaze to the deputy. “Don’t lie, but put your best spin on the news. If you need help, I’ll jump in. Go ahead and sit down. I’ll start the meeting.”

  Drake sat in the nearly empty front pew next to the deputy.

  “Welcome, everyone.” Pastor Wayne smiled. “I’m glad to see so many of you here tonight. My son, Dan, invited Lewis County Deputy Campbell here to provide information about the current situation and how we can help each other here on Fremont Hill.”

  Pastor Wayne moved to one side as Deputy Campbell stepped to the center of the podium.

  Someone in the pews shouted, “When will the power come back on?” Others asked questions in rapid, overlapping succession.

  Deputy Campbell held up his hand. “We’re working to establish communication with Olympia, but right now I can’t give you a definite answer about the power.”

  “I’m out of food,” a woman shouted. “What can I do? What’s going to happen?”

  Deputy Campbell stared at the crowd. Drake knew the answers to her questions. Little food was available and there would be less with each passing day. She might starve.

  Pastor Wayne moved to the center. “There’s still food, but we need to cooperate, share and be generous. Save seeds. Plant a garden. If you have a greenhouse, use it.” He paused and gazed at the now silent crowd. “We can get through this if we work together.”

  “How can the government just leave us like this?” a man asked.

  “Sit down, Chuck,” someone yelled. “It’s not the government’s job to feed you.”

  “They’re supposed to take care of us.” Chuck shook his head but sat. “That’s why we pay taxes.”

  Several people groaned.

  “What about the criminals we’re seeing?” another asked.

  “Difficult times bring out bad people.” The deputy shrugged. “That’s always been true, but most of your local law enforcement remains on duty. We have several police cars and the Humvee running but, without electricity, the phones, computers, and radios are down.”

  “What should we do?” someone asked.

  “I recommend you establish a community watch program,” Deputy Campbell answered.

  “I think that’s a good start.” Pastor Wayne nodded.

  “This just won’t do!” Chuck shot to his feet again.

  “Shut up,” another man shouted. “I want to hear what the deputy has to say before it gets too dark to see him.”

  Drake glanced out a window. The sun stood just above the nearby trees. He estimated they had a few hours of daylight remaining.

  “The government is supposed to protect us,” Chuck grumbled as he sat.

  The meeting progressed, but Chuck stormed out before it ended. Everyone else stayed until the sun stood just above the horizon. Drake felt they left thinking the situation was dire but feeling hopeful.

  Drake dashed home as the shadows of twilight deepened. He wished he had never heard Deputy Downer’s whispered comments to Pastor Wayne.

  Day Six

  Portland, Oregon, late Thursday into Friday, September 9th

  Neal had visited Portland on more occasions than he could recall, but he knew this trip across the city would remain fixed in his mind forever.

  The sun fell below most of the building before the before the convoy departed. The streets of Portland became dark manmade canyons.

  Neal tensed as the vehicles raced into the darkness.

  Occasionally, they would pass a group huddled around a fire. Other times people stood in the road, waving for the trucks to stop, but the convoy never did. The vehicles wove around abandoned cars and surprised pedestrians, often with Ginger barking or growling from the back seat. If something blocked the way, the lead truck, equipped with a plow, pushed it aside.

  “Why don’t you clear the roads and make this trip faster?” Neal asked.

  “We are.” Lieutenant Pool steered down a side street following the convoy. “But we change routes frequently.”

  Stars dotted the sky as the convoy rolled onto the freeway. Pool glanced up. “I’ve lived in Portland for five years and never seen so many stars.”

  Neal gazed into the darkness and pointed. “That’s Orion, the Big Dipper is there, and if you follow those two stars out you find the North Star.”

  Pool raised an eyebrow. “Is astronomy a hobby or a profession?”

  “A hobby. I’ve lived in the country most of my life and been a backyard astronomer since I was a boy.” However, as Neal continued to stare into the night, his only thought was thankfulness that no aurora weaved across the sky. Tonight no sun storms would inflict additional damage upon mankind.

  In the early hours of Friday morning, the convoy left the freeway and proceeded along side streets to an area of hotels beside the Columbia River. The trucks continued down the road, but Lieutenant Pool steered the jeep into a parking lot and stopped. Before either man stepped out, soldiers poured from the nearest hotel and flowed around the jeep, like water around a boulder in a stream. “What’s going on?” Pool called to another lieutenant.

  “Gunfire across the river in Washington state. We’re securing the bridge.”

  Lieutenant Pool exited the jeep and waved for Neal to follow. Together they climbed to an observation post beside the bridge. There, Pool borrowed binoculars from one of the sentries.

  The lieutenant leaned against a chest-high wall of sandbags and stared across the dark water.

  Neal followed and stood beside him. “What do you see?”

  “Muzzle flashes and small fires.” He set the binoculars on the sandbags and looked at Neal with worried eyes. “No one will be crossing this bridge for a while.”

  Neal leaned onto his elbows. His home state was within sight, but he couldn’t get there. He thought of Conner and Drake, alone and afra
id.

  His wife, Beth, had been the hub around which the family revolved. When she died, they had bumped along, but only just. He had been there for his sons physically but not emotionally.

  He had failed them when they needed him the most.

  He had failed to protect Beth from the mugger and he had failed the boys.

  He was a failure as a man.

  * * *

  Cle Elum, Washington, Friday, September 9th

  Conner yawned and pulled open the back door to the church. The cool of night still embraced the air that flowed in through the door.

  Madison stepped out but paused on the porch. “Should we say goodbye before we go?”

  “I didn’t see anyone awake.” Conner looked back for a moment and then let go of the door.

  “Wait,” a voice called from inside. The door clicked shut and then immediately opened. Father Dan breathed deeply as he stepped out. “I’ve got good news.” He waved Conner and Madison back in.

  “A local rancher, Jason, somehow got his truck running and is headed to the west side of the mountains to bring his daughter and son-in-law home. He says you can ride in the back of the truck if you like.”

  Conner looked at Madison as she nodded and grinned. “Yes,” he said to Father Dan. “That would be a great help.”

  “Good. Wait in the parking lot. I’ll go make the final arrangements.” He hurried away.

  Conner and Madison walked to the empty gravel parking lot. Standing near the middle, Conner pulled off the backpack and set it on the ground. “Well, I’m glad I won’t be carrying that on my back all day.”

  Madison nodded and kicked at a stone. With her head still down, she spoke. “When you find your family, maybe you could come back to Olympia sometime. I’d like to know you arrived home and that your family was okay.”

  Her words made Conner happy. “Sure, that would be great.” He grinned, but more than anything he needed to get home. With each passing day, he felt growing guilt over leaving Drake. Pulled between feelings for Madison and duty to Drake, Conner’s gut twisted in a knot.

  Father Dan returned with a green backpack and a sleeping bag tied on top. He handed both to Madison. “There’s a coat, blanket, and socks in the pack. I thought you’d need it. Jason will be here in a moment.”