Fire From The Sky (Book 5): Home Fires

by Reed, N. C.

  -

  While Leon was fuming at being talked down to by a 'communist jackass', Clay was having lunch. He had done the same as everyone else, clearing away his gear with disinfectant before taking a shower himself. By the time he emerged from the shower, Lainie had come home and was fixing them lunch. By the time he had dressed, it was ready to eat.

  “How did it go?” she asked as the two sat together, eating.

  “It was rough,” Clay sighed. “And I mean rough. I imagine some of the people who made the trip will be scarred for life.”

  “That does sound bad,” she admitted. “Need to talk about it?” she asked carefully.

  “No,” he shook his head. “I've seen worse,” he said simply. She didn't know what to say to that exactly so changed the subject.

  “I'm helping your mom and your sister bake bread for tomorrow. We started last night using that clay oven, but it was slow. Every loaf you add to the oven slows the cooking time down. There was no way we were going to make it until I thought of the twins.”

  “And they had an answer,” Clay chuckled.

  “A pair of solar ovens,” Lainie grinned. “They will bake two loaves in about two hours or so. We had just loaded them when I saw you making your way home. Using them we just might make it in time,” she laughed.

  “What do you think about all this?” Clay asked.

  “The luau?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think it's a good idea. Or at least the start of a good idea anyway,” she shrugged. “They were right. We've essentially become three groups instead of one. That has to change if we're going to make it. We have to work together and look out for each other. I heard that finding the Jessups in a real mess is what led to that line of thinking.”

  “Heard that myself,” Clay agreed. “Don't know what they found, but I did hear that the group took the Jessup kids to another home for the evening. Harley has always been a drinker, or at least that's what Leon said, but according to the others he'd never been a drunk. More like a functioning alcoholic. Since Bryon died he's dropped off the edge. And Nadine was a wreck from what I hear. I admit I didn't really ask any questions though.”

  “It's not for you to deal with,” Lainie agreed. “While I'm glad to see you're back working, I do think that you made a good point. You shouldn't be having to deal with all the non-security issues. There are too many people on this place who can do that much easier than you can. Maybe not better, but easier.”

  “Thanks,” Clay smiled. “I almost felt like I was just throwing a fit in a way. Being petty about it, I mean. But you're right. There are plenty of people here who are older and have just as much at stake as I do, or even more. Leon wants me to be prepared to take over a leadership role, but. . .I'm not sure I want it. That wasn't the plan. Of course, none of this other crap was the plan, either,” he added.

  “I know,” Lainie nodded. “For what it's worth, I thought your plan was better,” she said seriously. “I did think Leon's idea had merit, to be honest. He just chose poorly, that's all.”

  “Well, in his defense, he chose people who had usable skills and that he thought, based on years of knowing them would be an asset,” Clay shrugged. “And, the Webbs were an asset. We needed their skills at preparing hides for leather work. It's almost a lost art. We’ll slaughter cows on a regular basis from now on as well as kill deer and even hogs. All of which make good leather for just about anything.”

  “Do we have anyone who can do leather work?” Lainie asked.

  “We've got the tools, I know, because the twins ordered them, but no one I know has the real skill it takes to use them,” Clay admitted.

  “Why did he include Harley Jessup in the group?” she asked.

  “Originally it was because he was a shiner,” he replied. “Having that small herd of hogs didn't hurt though.”

  “Shiner,” she repeated. “You mean moonshine?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “We need the alcohol as a gas additive. And, when the gas is gone, the shine itself will power a gasoline engine. Between that and the bio-diesel we can keep going a little longer. At least in theory.”

  “I keep forgetting it's just a matter of time,” she nodded. “One day, far too soon for comfort, we’ll start losing what tech we have left. Where will we be then?”

  “We've planned for it as well as we could,” he reminded her. “We may not be as well off as we want, but we should be able to survive.”

  “And that's really what it's come down to, isn't it?” she sighed. “Survival.”

  “No, that's what it's always been,” Clay's voice was soft. “The Storm just stripped the veneer off of society. The ugly parts that were hidden are now in full view. But so long as we keep putting our security protocols before anything else, it will take more than what someone like Hyatt Holman can bring to bear to take us down.”

  “When I think about what happened to Daisy. . .to Jasmine. . .” Lainie shook her head slowly. “It scares me, Clay. Not just for me, but for Leann. For Marcy George. For all these young girls.”

  “It should,” he agreed. “But again, so long as people will listen, it won't happen. We have the tools to protect ourselves if everyone will just work together for that purpose.”

  “And if they don't?” she asked.

  “Then we’ll probably fail.”

  -

  Franklin George, Gary Meecham and Gordon Sanders stood before the Jessup cabin, dreading what they would find. No one wanted to go inside, despite the fact that they knew they had to.

  “There's no sense just standing here,” Meecham sighed finally. “It's got to be done and we all have other work to do as well.”

  “I wish Beverly were with us,” Franklin nodded. “She's so very smart and well spoken. None of us really are.”

  “She's very busy with the people who went to the Webb farm,” Gordon told them.

  “Bad?” Meecham asked.

  “Very bad,” was all Gordon said.

  “Look, this is stupid,” Franklin George took the first step. “We've got to do this regardless of what we want. It has to be done so we just have to suck it up and get on with it.”

  The other two merely nodded and followed him. Franklin knocked on the cabin door and waited. No one called out from inside and no one answered the door. After a slow count to thirty he knocked again, louder, and called out.

  “Harley! Nadine! We need to talk to you!”

  Nothing. Franklin counted to thirty again and looked at the other two.

  “I got a bad feeling about this,” he said softly.

  “Me too,” Meecham agreed.

  Reluctance practically dripping from his movements, Franklin pulled the door handle down and slowly pushed the door open.

  The first thing they saw was Nadine Jessup, hanging from the rafter of the cabin, slowly swinging back and forth on a rope wrapped around her neck.

  “God have mercy,” Franklin whispered, echoed by Gordon a second later.

  “We need to get her down,” Meecham's voice was urgent. “She may be alive.”

  “No,” Franklin shook his head, a restraining hand on Meecham's arm. “She's blue,” he pointed to her face. “She's been gone a while. We need to find Harley.”

  The three men made a quick search of the small cabin, Meecham climbing the small ladder to the loft. There was no sign of Harley anywhere.

  “Where is his still?” Gordon asked.

  “Out behind the hog pen in a little shed he knocked together for it,” Meecham nodded. The three men closed the door to the cabin and hurried that way. They didn't make it all the way to the shed before they saw that the door was open and one booted foot was lying outside on the ground, keeping the door open.

  Franklin George opened the door to reveal Harley Jessup laying on his side, vomit all over the floor of the small shed. Like his wife, his skin was blue, showing signs that he had died of suffocation.

  “God help us,” Gordon whispered. “He's poisoned himself with that a
lcohol.”

  “We need to keep everyone away,” Gary Meecham said. “And send for Greg Holloway. He needs to investigate this. We all know what happened, or think we do, but let’s follow the right steps.”

  “I’ll go and find Gregory,” Gordon said. “Be back as soon as I can.”

  -

  “If Harley did this, Nadine didn't put up a fight,” Greg told them, examining her body after cutting it down. “She has no defensive wounds at all. No bruises, scratches, nothing. Her hands were free so she could have resisted. There's no sign that she did.”

  “Assisted suicide?” Gordon asked.

  “At the most,” Greg nodded. “I'd say closer to just plain suicide. That rope was tied at the lowest point of the lodge pole. Actually, it's not tied so much as a loop tossed over and then the rope run back through. That was all she needed.”

  “What about Harley?” Meecham asked.

  “Drank himself to death,” Greg sighed. “I've seen it too many times before. He drank so much, so fast, that it poisoned his system. There was a small amount of vomit where his body tried to get rid of it, some of which I'd say he aspirated into his lungs from the look of him. He definitely died of suffocation before the alcohol got him, judging by his blue skin. We can ask Patricia to do an abbreviated autopsy if you want, but the clinic is full and an autopsy is ugly work.”

  “No,” Gordon was already shaking his head. “She has her hands full as it is, and you sound certain that there was no foul play in this.”

  “None,” Greg agreed. “There's no note, either. They just decided to do this, and then did it. My guess is they either did it independently of each other, or else Harley found Nadine dead and then just. . . followed her. That's the only two conclusions that fit the evidence.”

  “Then let it go,” Franklin sighed. “So much death,” he shook his head sadly. “Battle is over and yet the casualties keep coming.”

  “We need to make some arrangements for the children,” Meecham said quietly. “And we need a funeral. We can't just toss these two in a trench. Those kids will want a place to visit.”

  “We can bury them where we buried Josh,” Gordon nodded. “We’ll make that area a cemetery. Hopefully it won't get any more use for a while.”

  “Lord hear our prayer,” Franklin whispered.

  “Amen,” Meecham added solemnly.

  -

  “I want you to ride back in the Cougar,” Jose told Martina softly.

  “What? Why?” she looked shocked.

  “I need to bring up the rear, and I have something I need to do,” he told her simply. She looked at him a long time before simply nodding and walking away. Jose grimaced, knowing he'd just driven a wedge between them, but he didn't want her with him right now.

  The group had swiftly loaded Dee Talbot's belongings onto the truck even as Charles Talbot ran back and forth, threatening, cursing and doing his best to interfere. The children were placed on the Cougar and Kaitlin was carefully examining them as she watched them while the rest worked loading the truck or standing guard. Jake and Brick easily managed to get her furniture that had survived, including her bed and that of those of her two daughters. Her son's bed had been destroyed in the fire, as had the bed in their spare room.

  “That's it,” Dee had announced finally as she handed a box of books to Titus Terry. “I'm going to take one last look, but I'm sure that's it.”

  “Yes ma'am,” Titus nodded and carried the box outside to be placed on the trailer. Charles stormed into the house, face red and eyes narrowed.

  “Dee, you are not leaving me!” he told her. “You belong here with me and you're staying!” he demanded, grabbing her by the arm. Nate Caudell stepped in at that point and floored Talbot with a right hand.

  “Keep your hands to yourself there, bud,” Nate had said mildly.

  “She's my wife!” Charles scrambled to his feet. “You stay out of this!”

  “I will, long as you're peaceable,” Nate assured him.

  “Charles, I've had enough of your crap,” Dee told him. “What you did was wrong, and endangered the safety of my children. I said nothing about your infatuation with that Communist horseshit so long as it didn't endanger my children, but that is the one line you don't get to cross!”

  “Nothing I said was wrong, and you and my children aren't going to be around someone like him!” Talbot all but screamed.

  “They aren't your children!” Dee was just as loud. “They're mine. Just like this farm was and most everything in this house! God, how did I not see through you?” she shook her head sadly as she made for the door.

  “Get back here!”

  “I ignored your little fling with your TA, thinking it was better to let it go and have a solid home for my kids, but you know what? A man who will cheat on his wife with a student under his supervision isn't really fatherly material, now is he?”

  “You aren't leaving me!” Talbot screamed again, but Dee was already out the door and headed for the Cougar and her children.

  “As soon as she's on board, go,” Jose told Nate. “Martina is with you,” he added. Nate looked at him in silence for a long moment before simply nodding.

  Talbot had to be restrained by Kade Ramsey until Dee was safely in the Cougar. As soon as the door was secure, Titus took off, Nate climbing into the turret. Jake was right behind them in the Beast and soon it was just Jose and one Charles Talbot. Brick was already in the Hummer with Leon.

  “I won't forget this,” Talbot said darkly. “I know people who would pay dearly for any information on you at all. I’ll find them and I’ll tell them everything I can to help destroy you. Don't think I won't.”

  “I believe you,” Jose nodded. Without another word he pulled his pistol and shot Talbot once in the nose. Talbot's head snapped back and his feet made one staggering step backward before he fell, dead before he ever touched the ground.

  Without a backward glance Jose walked to the Hummer and crawled behind the wheel. Brick nodded in approval, but Leon had to speak.

  “Good shot.”

  -

  “Both of them?” Angela said as Gordon gave her the news.

  “Afraid so,” Gordon sighed. “Greg's not sure how it developed exactly, but he's certain they did it to themselves, and meant to.”

  “How could she do that to her children?” Angela almost wailed, though her voice was soft. “Those poor children. What will we do now?”

  “We need to keep them together,” Gordon shrugged. “And no one has the room for three more children that I know of. The best thing would be to clean that cabin up and give it to someone else rather than let them live there after Nadine killed herself there, but. . .where we will put them permanently, I don't know, Ange.”

  “There isn't any room at the Orphanage, I know,” Angela sighed. “We don't have room either, and neither does Clayton. Robert and Patricia already have their kids, plus Sam. Alicia and Ronny have the twins and a baby on the way. Gordon. . .we can't help,” she said helplessly.

  “We aren't alone here, Angela,” Gordon reminded her. “There are other folks around here, and some of them are going to have to step up. Franklin and Gary were talking it over with Malitha when I came home. I know the Goodrum's don't have room for them, and Franklin doesn't either. Dixie has her own son and she's alone. Gary is alone and his cabin is the smallest of them all.” He shook his head tiredly. “I don't know.”

  “I wonder,” Angela mused and Gordon looked at her, waiting. When she didn't say anything else, he prompted her with;

  “Wonder what?”

  “Well, Daisy and Jasmine are on the mend,” Angela pointed out. “Neither is really ready to be around a lot of people as yet and I doubt physically they're able to do much, still. But maybe the two of them could take the three kids in and care for them?”

  “You're talking about asking two damaged women to take care of three damaged kids,” Gordon said quietly. “I'm not sure that's a good idea, Ange.”

  “Neither am
I,” she admitted. “But there aren't many options. Think of the women that could raise children that small. Amy Mitchell comes to mind, but she has a small daughter and can't do it alone, never mind how much work she does around here. How large was the Jessup place? I can't remember.”

  “Two bedrooms and a loft,” Gordon was shaking his head. “Not enough for much more. I suppose Daisy and Jasmine could share a room and then Harley's daughter could take the other room. That would leave the loft for the boys. I think that's how they had it already.”

  “We can at least see if they're interested,” Angela decided. “If they aren't then we’ll just have to try something else.”

  “We need to arrange a funeral,” Gordon sighed tiredly. “I'd rather do it today than tomorrow, and we can't wait any later than that. Not without embalming.”

  “Poor children,” Angela was shaking her head. “Lost their older brother and now both parents.”

  “I have a feeling it will get worse before it gets better,” Gordon said. “I'm too old for this.”

  “Both of us dear,” Angela nodded. “But it is what it is.”

  -

  “Both of them?” Clay looked at Greg.

  “Yep,” his friend nodded. “Gone. We need to bury them today, too. I hate it for their kids, but. . .there's no way to. . .I mean without embalming...”

  “Yeah,” Clay exhaled. “This has turned out to be some day, ain't it?”

  “No kidding,” Greg snorted. “Ain't over yet, either.”

  “Let me know when they get ready to bury them,” Clay said. “If I can, I’ll be there.”

  “Will do.”

  Clay sat down on his steps and contemplated the news. Both Jessups dead. How the hell did someone commit suicide and leave three little kids to fend for themselves like that? Who did that? Well, obviously the Jessups did, but. . .why would any parent deliberately put a child that age through something like that?

  It felt like things were coming apart. The stress was getting to people and they weren't handling it well. At this rate it was just a matter of time until something really bad happened. He shook his head as he got to his feet. He hoped he was wrong.

  He'd had enough for one day, at least.