Starting the Slowpocalypse (Books 1-3 Omnibus)

by James Litherland

  The thin cedars of this forest provided plenty of room to move, and among the moldering remains of fallen leaves and the broken-off branches of winter, there were new shoots trying to poke their way up. Not enough undergrowth to hamper her, but more than enough to hide some nasty surprises. So she gazed at the fence and beyond for a while, calculating.

  She could ease herself over the barbed wire—or she could fly. Checking the ground behind her, Kat backed up a good ten yards before running straight ahead and leaping to land one foot on the top of a wooden post and push, propelling herself a further ten yards through the air. She bent her knees and nailed a perfect landing.

  There she stood completely still as she scanned the ground ahead of her. Hearing and seeing nothing, she walked slowly forward, keenly aware of her surroundings with every step. She stopped before a suspiciously thick layer of leaves. Likely a pit with spikes at the bottom, but not one of the ones she’d been warned about.

  Kat began circling slowly around the presumed pit when a tingle up her spine made her stop again and think. That trap might’ve been a little too obvious. Some of the most dangerous traps were those that lay in the path you would take avoiding a different threat. One you’re meant to see.

  She crouched low and searched in the dim light of the false dawn for a tell-tale sign. When she saw a tiny droplet hanging suspended in the cold air, Kat thanked God for the dew—it had revealed a length of fishing line stretched between two trees.

  Looking about, she still couldn’t see the trap it would spring. She found herself hesitating. Having discovered the trigger, she wondered if it would be best to try to avoid this trap she still couldn’t see. Or should I spring it?

  She wasn’t indecisive by nature, but this was a delicate situation. Without knowing where the trap itself was, or how it had been constructed, she still might manage to set it off. Avoiding the trigger she had seen might not be enough. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure if she could spring it safely without understanding the nature of the trap.

  Kat shook her head. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become as bad as David was for overthinking everything. A trap sprung is a danger defanged.

  She retraced her steps until she could just make out the trip wire, crouched down to pick up a fallen branch about a foot long, and took careful aim. She sent the hunk of wood flying, spinning end over end in a shallow arc right across that invisible line. She felt the twang of resistance when the branch hit the wire and flipped over. And the following flurry was so fast she almost missed what happened.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and replayed what she’d seen. From the camouflage of leaves off to the left, just ahead of that fishing line, three bent saplings had sprung upright with sudden force and unleashed a hail of nails flying through the air, right where someone would’ve been standing if they had tripped the wire as they walked through. And those nails would’ve been rusty. A low-tech mantrap, but very nasty.

  Kat quickly suppressed a shudder. She’d avoided that fate and she’d see the next trap in time, too. And she was glad she’d sprung it. As little vibration as it must have taken to release those saplings from whatever held them, just walking across the ground might have set it off.

  The only problem was the noise it had made. It had sounded just like a flock of birds being startled from the brush—which was a natural sound, though one signaling a potential intruder just as clearly as the scream the trap might have prompted if it had hit its mark.

  Well, forewarned is forearmed. Kat now knew that she might be expected—she would just have to act accordingly. She moved slow the rest of the way through the woods to the clearing, though that still left her a good fifty or sixty yards short of the back entrance. She stood hidden just inside the tree line and waited.

  If someone was watching, Kat might have been seen already—but she saw no indication there was a welcoming committee awaiting her arrival. Nor did she see any signs of more traps between her and the house.

  Crouching low and running in a zigzag pattern, she scanned the path ahead of her feet and listened for the silent warning in her spirit of a danger she’d failed to see. But she made it all the way to the door without a whisper, inside or out.

  The outer screen door was closed, but the heavy oak one behind it stood open—presumably to allow the cool air to circulate inside. Kat paused, but she couldn’t see or hear any signs of life. If that screen door was locked, she wasn’t sure what she’d do—but it was tightly closed and that might mean an alarming shriek of metal when it was opened, regardless. She couldn’t see any way around that.

  She took another long look at the empty, peaceful dawn around her before she reached out to grab the door handle. Best to get it over with quickly and hope it wouldn’t make too much noise. At least not enough to attract any unwanted attention.

  With her weight falling backward as she pulled, the door jerked open with a screech that was mercifully short—meaning the noise hadn’t been long or loud enough to cover the sound of a shotgun barrel slamming into place.

  In front of Kat and a step higher, a middle-aged woman with dark hair in a thick braid held a giant, wicked looking knife in her fist. Over her shoulder rested the barrel of the shotgun, held by a girl with shiny brown hair hanging loose—that barrel pointing squarely at Kat.

  Kat felt her eyes start to sting with tears as she stood there, staring. This is going to be difficult.

  The older woman lowered her knife and smiled. “I was just chopping some onions. You should have let us know you were here—Patience might’ve accidentally blown your head off.”

  The girl did look slightly chagrined not to have had the opportunity to blow something away.

  Kat shook her head. “Mrs. Ken Cameron, I presume? If the cell service was working around here, I’d have called to give you a heads-up. As it was, I’d rather not yell and alert your nearest neighbors.”

  The presumed Mrs. Cameron looked past Kat at the surrounding woods. “Hurry up then and get in here before anyone sees you.” She turned to the girl as she backed into the house. “Put that down and go get us some brew.”

  Patience leaned the shotgun against the wall of the entryway and strolled back into the house. Kat stepped cautiously inside and followed the girl down the corridor as Mrs. Cameron closed both the doors behind them.

  The short hallway led into a spacious kitchen. A large, round oak table sat in the middle, dominating the room, and another young lady was at the stove, laying slices of bacon into a cast-iron skillet.

  Offered one of the chairs at the table, Kat took a seat with a long sigh. Patience placed a mug in front of her and filled it with steaming black liquid, then poured another mug for her mother who took a seat next to Kat.

  Mrs. Cameron took a sip before she spoke. “Lt. Katherine Miles, I presume. My husband had to be careful on the phone, I know, but he said enough to let me know you’d be coming.”

  “Call me Kat.” She took a sip from her own mug and blinked in surprise. It wasn’t coffee.

  “It’s chicory brew. No caffeine, but it makes for a decent coffee substitute. And call me Fiona—Mrs. Cameron makes me sound like an old lady.”

  Kat sipped again and considered it. When the FURC did eventually run out of coffee, this could be a satisfactory substitute. For me. Those who drank coffee only as a caffeine delivery system would need something else.

  Turning her attention then to the woman beside her, Kat noticed something she’d missed when facing the knife and shotgun—a few gray hairs among the black. She wondered if it was Chief Cameron or the three daughters who were responsible.

  Mrs. Cameron sipped from her mug, giving Kat a long, considering look in return. “My Ken’s talked about you. I wish he’d have let us know when you were coming—one of the girls could’ve been watching and led you in safely. It would’ve been a shame if one of the traps out there had stopped you.”

  “He couldn’t provide any details on the phone—anyone might’ve been listening in. But
I didn’t have any problem getting in, so that’s alright. The problem will be getting you and your daughters out past your friends. And all the way back to the FURC and your husband. Safely.”

  Fiona snorted. “My friends. We’re safer in here with them on the outside. Why should we leave?”

  “If I made it through your defenses, so will they, eventually.” If they can manage to get up the courage to suffer the inevitable casualties. “But you’ve got a better reason. Ken sent me because he wants his family safe, and now that I’ve seen the situation I can see you need a rescue. One way or another, you can’t hold out here on your own forever.”

  The other daughter, who’d been at the stove, set a plate full of bacon in the middle of the table, giving Kat her first good look at the young woman who was the spitting image of her mother, down to the thick black hair knotted into a long Dutch braid. The girl went back to the counter and started breaking eggs into a bowl.

  On the other side of the kitchen, Patience mixed biscuit dough in another big bowl. Fiona saw what Kat was looking at and grinned. “Seems to me we’re doing pretty well for ourselves here. And you can’t think we’re concerned about the trash that’s blown into the neighborhood. Let those cretins camp out there until they starve.”

  Kat shook her head again. “They don’t look like they’re starving—it looks like a siege. They seem to think they can wait you out. And what about your husband?”

  “If he misses his family so much, he can always come home. And if that scum outside is waiting for us, we shouldn’t go walking into their arms. That’s why we’ll stay right here. Where we’re safe.”

  The aroma of fried bacon was too much for Kat—she reached out to grab some slices and devoured them. After their long, uncomfortable trip, she was really looking forward to breakfast. It was a shame MacTierney wasn’t here to share it, but then he had been spared the trek through the woods.

  Kat returned to Mrs. Cameron and came at the woman from a different angle. “I’d like to know who those raggedy folk are. And is there any particular reason they’re pestering you?”

  “They’re a bunch of white supremacists, and as for why they’re here, you’ll find that out yourself if you stay for breakfast.”

  Kat grinned. “Of course I’m staying for breakfast—if sweet reason can’t convince you to leave, I’ll just have to wear you down with my persistence.”

  Fiona cackled. “You’ve got gumption, girl. I can see why Kenny-bear sent you.”

  Kenny-bear? Kat shook her head. Despite her words, she didn’t have time to wear down this woman’s resistance. She needed to get everyone moving and soon. But I suppose we’ve time enough to eat. “If I could get a cell signal through, I’d call Ken and let him give you a direct order. But I can’t. All I can say is that what’s happening here is only a symptom of how fast things are breaking down. So it’s vital to get you all into the FURC before it gets worse.”

  Fiona cackled again. “Did Kenny-bear tell you he can order me around? I only let him think that’s the case.”

  “We’d best eat before we leave, but you can start getting packed for the journey. We’ll want to move out while it’s early—if those sluggards aren’t sleeping, hopefully they’ll still be drowsy.” Kat could now smell the biscuits baking in the oven. “I didn’t think throwbacks like that still existed.”

  “They came from somewhere up north, crossed the border a while back and took over the old county fairgrounds. No one tried to stop them. There may be a lot fewer of them these days, but they’re nastier and more dangerous. If just as stupid.”

  Kat gulped down the cooling chicory and snuck several more slices of bacon. “You still haven’t said what they’re doing here.”

  Fiona frowned. “They want the land, of course, but as for why they latched on us—” Her words cut off when another woman shuffled into the kitchen—in a dowdy dress, with stringy brown hair unkempt and framing a face with dull eyes, she looked out of place. This can’t be the third daughter.

  The woman turned her empty gaze toward Kat and then back to Fiona. “Bart is sleeping in.”

  Kat looked her questions at her hostess. Who’s Bart? And who is this woman?

  Fiona shrugged. “This is Lacey. I’d have her tell you her story if I thought she could manage it. Bart is her husband.” She gave Kat a meaningful glance. “It seems he had a bright idea to seek sanctuary for himself and his wife with these Aryans who are now camped on our doorstep. And when it didn’t work out, he found leaving them a difficult proposition.”

  Lacey looked around the kitchen. “Do you want me to help with breakfast?”

  Fiona shook her head and waved to a chair. “I want you to sit down and keep out of the way.” She turned back to Kat. “These two ended up on the run from those dirtbags and found their way here. Now their pursuers want this whole place—which they’ll get over their dead bodies.”

  Kat tried to sum up the situation. “You’ve taken in a couple of strays and you want to kick the tarnation out of some bullies.”

  Fiona grinned. “Any reason why we shouldn’t?”

  “Only common sense.”

  “Is it common sense telling you to try and take us out past those pathetic creatures?”

  Kat stared into the woman’s eyes. Fiona wasn’t stupid, so she shouldn’t be so resistant to the idea of getting out. “As well as you’ve been doing here so far, you and the girls are isolated. Even if you manage to repel this lot, how many will come after? And where does staying here get you?”

  “This is our home.”

  “What about your girls? What kind of future do they have here? Our community is large, and they’d have lots of opportunities—to find friends and fulfilling work.”

  Fiona shook her head. “That sounds nice. But do you really believe you can get us past those rabid dogs outside and all the way to Ken?”

  Kat bared her teeth. “It’s my job. The mission Ken sent me on, to bring you home. So of course I’ll be able to do it.” She leaned back to let Patience set a plate of biscuits on the table. The other daughter followed with a giant dish of scrambled eggs. “Ken also wanted me to tell you something—that home is wherever he is.”

  Fiona was smiling at that when a young woman who was clearly the third daughter strolled into the room. The likeness to her sisters was clear, but she wore her honey-blonde hair in a multitude of small braids elaborately arranged and knotted around her head. Like some kind of headdress. Kat thought the simple braid worn by Fiona was far too much trouble—this was ridiculous. It must take hours.

  Fiona’s smile turned wry. “Allow me to introduce my other two daughters. The one who’s been helping make breakfast is Faith, and the one whose reason for always being late for the morning meal should be obvious, that’s Grace.”

  Grace nodded regally and sat down at the table while Faith slid a plate full of good-looking grub in front of her. “Thanks, sis.” She started eating without another word.

  Kat blinked several times, then returned her attention to Mrs. Cameron. “Don’t worry about how we’ll get you safely out. I’m curious to know exactly how these guests of yours managed to get in.” Considering the pitfalls and what she’d seen of Lacey, it seemed quite remarkable.

  “Pure luck.” Fiona finished piling her own plate and started chomping on some bacon. “They came running up to the main gate when Faith was checking the traps there. If it had been Patience, they’d never have had the chance to get their story out.”

  Kat added a giant spoonful of scrambled eggs to her plate, along with a couple of biscuits and several more slices of bacon. “I parked on the back road on the south side of the woods. My sergeant is waiting there now for us, and we should get going as soon as possible. Maybe you and the girls should start packing?”

  Fiona snorted. “What do you think we do with our time here? Sit on our rear ends? We try to prepare for everything, which means we’re ready to go. Mostly. It’ll take less than fifteen minutes for us to load our vehicles
and start engines.”

  Kat winced. “I don’t know how much you think you’ll be bringing with you, but it would be safer to sneak out on foot through the forest to where we’ve parked. I admit it’ll be a little cramped with the two extra passengers, but we’ll make room.”

  Fiona squinted back at her. “I don’t know how you plan to leave here, but my girls and I will drive all the way. We’ll have to go slow and quiet through the woods, but if those lazy losers out there do wake up and come after us, we won’t be on foot and loaded down with baggage.”

  This was definitely Ken’s wife. Kat had to admit it would be safer inside of vehicles than on foot. But she didn’t like the idea of growling engines drawing the enemy to them as they tried to leave. “Alright, I suppose we’ll do it your way.”

  Fiona cackled. “If that’s your way of asking for a ride, girl, you’re welcome to come with us.”

  Kat kept from smiling—she had given in on this point and established the fact that they were leaving as a given. Tony had taught her that. How to win by losing.

  Lacey raised her head and spoke. “If we’re leaving here, I suppose I should get started packing our things. And wake up Bart?”

  The hesitant questioning in the woman’s voice made Kat start wondering again about Bart and the way he treated his wife. But she was sure she didn’t want Lacey falling into the hands of those Aryans. I can’t see bringing either of them into the community, though.

  Fiona sniffed as she looked at Lacey. “After you finish breakfast will be soon enough to start packing the little you two brought. And one of the girls can wake your husband.”

  Lacey nodded meekly and returned to her eggs. Fiona rolled her eyes at Kat, then turned to Patience and barked out a command. “Go kick Bart out of his bed and tell him to be ready to leave in ten minutes.” Turning back to Kat, she shook her head. “Since I’m giving him ten minutes, it’ll take him an hour.”