by D W McAliley
Alyssa sighed loudly again and stood. She looked like she wanted to storm off, but she didn't know which way to turn. After a moment, Alex pointed to the cafeteria. "My girlfriend is in there with a few other people, if you want to go meet them. I told them you might be coming over, so it's okay."
Alyssa smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you," she growled, turned on her heel, and stalked off toward the cafeteria.
Alex chuckled softly. "I think she likes you, man," he said once Alyssa was safely out of earshot.
Mike grunted. "Yeah, right. You can tell by the way she's always a half step from clawing my eyes out or screaming at me."
"Yeah, pretty much," Alex said with a grin.
"You're out of your mind, and you're wrong," Mike said.
Alex waited another moment and said, "Look, I didn't want to say anything with her here. But are you sure you want to do this? Things are getting pretty bad in the city. A couple of the people with us said there are a lot of shootings and break-ins that are happening all over the place. No police, no EMS, no help at all. People are running to the refugee camps or they're just running, period."
Mike shook his head slowly, a haunted look in his eyes. "We passed a few neighborhoods up near Latta Plantation. You could smell the bodies. We looked in at a couple of houses, and it was bad."
"How do you know her sister's still there?" Alex asked quietly. "When's the last time you saw her?"
"Three days ago," Mike answered. "I left her and made a promise that I'd be back with her sister."
Alex breathed a heavy sigh and after a moment said, "Three days is a long time."
Mike nodded and leaned his head back against the building so he could stare up at the stars. "You're right, it is. But I gave her my word."
CH.24
Over For Dinner
Levy handed Joe the last of the loops of chain they'd collected all morning. Joe wrapped the chain around the thick pine tree and hooked an old padlock through the links at either end to close the loop. They had six lengths of chain with various diameters and lengths wrapped around the tree to attach a large red metal gate that Levy had salvaged from an old dairy barn. The gate had set against the side of the old smokehouse for nearly a decade, and most of the red paint was rusted or faded by the sun. Still, the steel underneath was strong, and it was the only thing they had close at hand that was large enough and could be easily secured on both ends.
Chris and Tom used an acetylene torch to cut through an old wrist-thick towing chain and make two loops to lock on the other side where the gate swung shut. The torch made an angry sounding hiss as it cut through the steel. With the locking chains cut, and with brand-new padlocks ready, Joe tested the swing of the gate. It wasn't smooth, and it wasn't quiet, but the gate swung all the way across the driveway, the far edge just barely scraping the pine tree on the other side.
"If we ever need to get serious about shutting this," Joe said pointing to the gate, "we need to have something that we can brace against it to block it. Maybe move the old red station wagon over here from under the shelter. It's heavy enough to be a real problem pushing against it unless you have some kind of power or enough people that it won't matter."
Tom thought about it a moment, and nodded. "I like that idea, but I don't think we should do it now. If people see this thing set up like a road block, it's going to freak them out bad."
"Good point," Joe agreed. "I guess we'll go back and see what we can do to help the women folk."
"I could check the fence perimeter, if you want," Chris said hopefully, but Joe shook his head.
"Eric and Henderson are already doing that," Joe said and frowned as he checked his watch. "In fact, they should have been back by now, really."
"They're probably just taking their time and being thorough," Chris said. "Not a bad idea considering the chaos we're about to jump back in the middle of."
Levy smiled. "It's like combat, boys. Follow orders, don't hesitate, and with a little help from God we'll all get out of it breathing."
"I wish he were kidding," Chris mumbled as they made their way to the farmhouse. As soon as Beth saw them coming across the yard, she came out to meet them with a to-do list. One by one, the men were given a task and sent on their ways until only Joe and Levy were left. Levy smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off in search of his own chores or with one already in mind.
"Eric and Henderson aren't back yet," Beth said, her voice low. "I don't know whether to be pissed off that they're lollygagging or worried that they could be in trouble. You think someone should go after them."
Joe shook his head. "They both have guns, and they know the signal. Someone might have gotten the drop on one of them, but not both. At least not before one of them had been able to signal us. If they were in trouble, we'd know it. And if they're lollygagging, then I'd rather let them dig their hole a little deeper. That way I can get more out of them when we finally do bust them. Besides, with them moving through the woods, it'd be tough to find them. "
Beth nodded her head, but there was still worry in her eyes. "Well, in that case, I need you to take a rag and wash out all of the white plastic chairs, then wipe down the three long tables and the square metal table. I think we're going to need all of them for the food."
"Jeez, babe, how much did you cook?" Joe asked.
"Enough to make sure everyone gets a bite," Beth answered. "And remember, the rest of them are supposed to bring a little something too, so we'll need room for them. Now, get to work. We got a lot to get done, and people will be showing up soon."
Before Joe could respond, Beth was gone. She strode across the open lawn with purpose, looking for the next thing to take care of. Joe just shook his head and got a bucket from a stack next to the pump house. He filled the bucket about halfway with water and put a few drop of blue dish detergent and stirred the water until it was frothy with suds. He found an old rag, soaked it in the cool soapy water, and began washing down the chairs that were stacked in the sun.
The farm was a roiling mass of chaotic activity. Beth Anne and Christina were marshalling the young children with rakes in their hands. Some would rake piles of leaves and others would load the leaves into an old tobacco sheet to drag off into the edge of the woods. Imogene and Blanche were taping down plastic red and white checkered table cloths onto the long tables that someone else had just washed. Bill walked back and forth carrying various potted flowers out of the way. His face was a bit pale, but he seemed in good health otherwise. His left arm was still bandaged heavily at the shoulder, and it hung in a sling to keep him from using it. Every now and then his fingers on his left hand would twitch when he bent to pick something up, as if he almost wanted to reach out with both hands.
Joe was glad to see that his long-barreled .357 magnum hung at his right side. He'd seen Bill give a demonstration of how quickly he could draw, even one handed, and sight down on a target and it was impressive. Years of training and acquired muscle memory showed clearly in the smooth, easy motions of the draw. He might not be much good in a fist fight for a few months, but as long as he kept some distance between him and the bad guys, Bill was still a force to be reckoned with.
Joe finished the last of the chairs and started for the square metal table with his bucket of soapy water and his rag. Eric and Henderson came running full speed up the road to the hoghouse, panting and out of breath. "Where the heck have you been?" Joe asked before either could get a word out.
Eric came over to his father, trying to catch his breath as best he could, and handed Joe a small patch of cloth. "That was stuck on the fence down on the back side of the garden," Eric said after a moment. "Looks like a group of four or five came through from the river. They hit the fence, then turned west toward Brant's place. We followed the trail for a little while to make sure they didn't try and cross the fence somewhere."
"This could have come off of our pants yesterday when we ran the fence," Joe said, but Eric was already shaking his head before the words were
out of his mouth.
"Nope," Eric said, "none of us wearing camo yesterday, Dad. And I'm telling you, the trail was clear from the river to the fence, and then through the woods toward the west."
Joe glanced at Henderson who nodded his head once. "He's right, Captain. The trail was pretty easy to follow once Eric found it. He's a good tracker."
"All right," Joe said finally, "we'll keep our eyes out but it sounds like whoever it was moved on already."
"What about Brant?" Eric asked when Joe didn't continue. "If this group was the one we heard shooting, then someone needs to go and warn him that they're coming."
Joe shook his head slowly. "Sorry, son, but we can't. Not right now. Brant knows how to take care of himself or he'd have never made it here from Raleigh. He's on his own for now."
"You can't be serious, Dad!" Eric demanded, "This is Brant, and he could be in trouble already!"
Joe put his hand on Eric's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I know it's tough, son, but it's the truth. We've got neighbors coming who probably don't even know what's really going on yet. Brant had his chance to come with us, and he chose not to take it. You and I have responsibilities to deal with here first; then I promise we'll go and check on Brant when the time is right."
Eric opened his mouth again, but Joe squeezed his shoulder a bit harder, and his face grew serious. "I've told you what's going to happen, Eric. Now, I need you here one hundred percent, okay?"
Eric took a deep, angry breath, but nodded. "Good," Joe said and he released Eric's shoulder. "Is the fence holding up okay?"
Henderson answered, "Yes, sir, Captain. Even where we found the patch of cloth, it looked like all of the brackets held and the fence didn't slip."
"Good," Joe said, and he patted Eric on the shoulder. "You boys go and find Beth. I'm sure she'll have something that needs to get done."
Bill was carrying a pair of hanging baskets with pink geraniums blooming in them when he suddenly dropped the flowers, put the fingers of his right hand to his mouth, and gave a loud, shrill whistle. He pointed up the white dirt road and called, "Company's coming."
Betsy was the first there, and she hobbled up with a picnic basket hanging from one elbow, an aluminum cane in her other. She held a smoking Pall Mall between her fingers along with the cane, and she waved as she walked up the driveway.
"Peter and Paul are coming too, but they was walking too slow," Betsy said as she passed Bill with a nod and a suspicious frown. "Blanche! I've got an egg casserole in here and about a half dozen raw eggs for you too."
Blanche came around the corner of the house just in time to meet Betsy in the driveway. She put an arm around the older woman's shoulders and ushered her into the shade under the sprawling oak.
"Who's the big fella in the driveway with the flowers?" Betsy asked softly. "If he got his shoulder tore up that bad, I'd sure hate to see the other fella."
The two moved out of earshot and Joe couldn't hear anything else they said between them. Beth came out and put the finishing touches on the two buffet tables as other families from the road came trickling in a few at the time. By the time the sun was directly overhead, the entire population of Cutler's Run had shown up. Joe looked over the buffet tables and was shocked at the abundance of food. There were steaming pots of butter beans, four different Dutch ovens with some form of gravy-smothered chicken, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, salted pork shoulder, and more. Both long tables and the small metal table were full of dishes with barely enough room left over for the stacks of paper plates and plastic cups.
Levy stood at the head of the buffet tables and cleared his throat softly. Silence fell quickly and everyone turned to listen.
"Thank you folks for coming out today," Levy said simply. "Let us bow our heads and return thanks."
Levy reached up and took off his cap, and the rest of the men who wore a hat did the same.
"Lord," Levy said once it was quiet again, "we thank you for the chance to come together today, to break bread in fellowship. We give you thanks that, for now, in this moment, we are whole and healthy. We ask your forgiveness and your protection, and we ask these things in Jesus' name. Amen."
There was a brief rustle as hats were returned to heads.
"Well, if ya'll go hungry, it's your own fault," Levy said with a grin, "Dig in young'uns."
Despite the number of people in the yard beneath the oak tree, silence fell relatively quickly as people began focusing more on eating than on making introductions to some of the new faces and rekindling acquaintances with the more familiar ones as well. The only exception were the children, who paused just long enough to gobble down some food before racing off to play again. Blanche and Beth both called at nearly the same moment for them to stay out from around the food and the people still eating. That was all the excuse they needed, though, and they ran out into the vineyard to play tag.
When it looked like people were beginning to slow down and reach their fill, Joe stood from his seat on the back porch steps. He walked over to the head of the buffet tables and cleared his throat a couple of times.
"Well, like Levy said, we appreciate you all coming," Joe said finally, "but this wasn't just a social call. Ya'll know something bad has happened, but I can tell you it's worse than you probably think."
Joe went on to explain about the attack and how serious the damage from the electromagnetic pulses really was. He told them about the violence and bloodshed in Norfolk, and how it looked like it was being organized and orchestrated. He told them about Raleigh burning and their trip to MacPhail's Pharmacy in the edge of town. He held nothing back from them and did not try to soften the impact of his words. This was no time to try and shelter them from reality.
Finally, Joe ran out of terrible experiences to share, and a long moment of silence stretched in the shade of the oak tree. "Who was it?" Paul asked, finally.
Joe shrugged slightly. "We don't know for sure. The Russians blamed North Korea and Iran, though that seems like an unlikely alliance. They were able to take out our satellites before we could establish effective surveillance and communication with our deployed forces. At this point, it doesn't really matter who did it. Our primary concern doesn't change, and that is survival."
Paul nodded, and Joe waited for more questions that didn't come. Finally, he nodded and continued. "Now you know how bad it is. The hard truth that I think most of you have probably figured out by now is that help just isn't coming. If there is some kind of organized response, and I find that very unlikely, they probably don't even know we're in trouble. They sure aren't sending any help our way any time soon. And things are going to get bad."
"The hell do you mean get?" Betsy growled. "My husband's dead, the lights ain't just out, they're gone. And now you tellin us that it's gonna get bad?"
A few people chuckled, but most just frowned and looked at Joe with narrowed eyes. Joe took a deep breath before answering. "You're right, it's already bad. Fact is, though, it's going to get worse. Think about this, folks. People we know just got together day before yesterday and burned down a pharmacy because they were scared. Scared people—desperate people—do very dangerous things. Things they'd never do otherwise. We've got to stick together, watch each others' backs, and stand up for each other."
"What do you want us to do? Start shooting every stranger that walks by?" Clinton, the old chicken farmer who lived at the very end of the Run asked.
Joe shook his head. "No, just try and keep people moving. Encourage them to find somewhere else to look for shelter. And protect yourselves. Protect each other. That's what we've always done here on Cutler's Run."
By the time Joe trailed off, every head at the table was nodding slowly.
"And if things ever get bad enough, and you need some place to go, come here," Joe said after a moment. "Our door's always open. Always."
Ch.25
Routine Inspection
Marcus paused, his hand on the door knob; then he turned it and walked into his workgroup'
s unit. One of the system programmers saw him walk in and stood. "Attention on deck!" he called, and the others lurched to their feet. They glanced uneasily at each other, a few moving as if to raise a salute they weren't sure was warranted, and they kind of froze with their hands halfway to their faces.
Marcus couldn't help but chuckle. "At ease," he said awkwardly. "I think we all have a lot to learn about this whole military protocol stuff. Jeremiah, why don't you see what's in the library and put together a ten minute power point for tomorrow? We'll use that as the first half of the morning brief."
"C'mon Marcus," Jeremiah groaned, "I've got four code bundles I've got to sort through and check for open doors and other cracks."
"Lt. Commander," Marcus reminded him, "you always get your work load done twice as fast as the rest of us anyway, myself included. All I'm asking for is ten minutes."
After a brief stare, Jeremiah breathed a short sigh. "Yes, sir," he said with a wry twist to his mouth.
"Okay, now for the real reason I'm here this afternoon," Marcus continued. "I know you guys are busy, but I've been asked to go around and check everyone's printer access cards. If you could all line up and show them to me one by one so I can check your name off the list. Then I'll be out of your hair."
"What's this about?" Samantha asked. "Sir," she added hastily.
Marcus smiled and checked her name off the list. He handed her printer card back to her and said, "As far as I know, it's just a routine security check. Given what's been going on the past few days, Commander Price thought we needed to make sure we're practicing good information security."
One by one, Marcus checked the names off his list. Everyone in his work group had their printer cards, as they were supposed to. Marcus went down the list one last time to make certain he hadn't missed anyone.
"We the last ones you're checking?" Jeremiah asked as Marcus stood.
"No, you're the first," Marcus answered with a heavy sigh. "Looks like I'm working past shift change tonight. Don't forget that presentation, Jeremiah....or I guess I should say Ensign."