by A. R. Shaw
“You guys had a long night?” Dalton asked.
“Yeah,” McCann yawned. “Bang and I were out late—looking for Sheriff.” He said it with an emphasis on the dog’s name, hoping to wake him with a little vengeance. “We didn’t find him,” he said as he measured the grounds into the pot.
“I know he took off after the other dogs, and Dutch hasn’t found them either,” Dalton said.
“Yeah, well, Macy had a hard time sleeping last night because she was worried about him. So, you’re here to talk about Dutch’s news?”
“Yeah, you should sit with us, too.” Dalton said.
“I intend to. That girl get looked at?” McCann asked, making conversation while he took out a few coffee cups.
“Yes. Clarisse took care of her. She was at the mess tent for dinner, and I know Clarisse had her bunk with her, so she’s in good hands.”
“That’s great. She looked pretty scared on our way to camp, but I didn’t press her for conversation,” McCann said.
“She’s been through some things, and she actually might be able to give us some information, but I think we’ll wait until Clarisse says she’s ready to talk.”
McCann guessed the minute he saw her that she’d been through some trauma. They’d all been through hell, but this lady had the look of shell shock.
“Good morning,” Graham said from the doorway. “Coffee ready yet?”
“Not quite,” McCann said as Dalton sat down at the table.
“I’m going to try and have a better day today,” Graham said, lightly touching his new stitches. “At the very least, I intend to avoid the wrong end of shotguns for a while.”
“Yeah, you and Rick both,” Dalton said. “Steven picked out pellets for a while. Said Rick whined and milked the wound as an excuse to have more than one beer at noon.”
McCann wanted them to get through this bit of cursory conversation and get down to business. He suspected Dalton was about to drop a bomb, and he wanted him to get to the point, but he remained patient as he tended to the coffee.
“We need to form a small group and go south to scout out where these invaders are,” Dalton began.
“So you believe him,” Graham guessed.
“Yeah, I do. He knows too much and has answers to all the right questions,” Dalton said.
“How many are going?” McCann asked. He wanted to get to the point. He got that they needed to see where they were with their own eyes.
“Four, maybe five. Graham, I’d like you come, but I understand if you don’t want to leave Tala right now, and your injury might slow you down. In that case, I’ll take McCann here—if you’re willing, that is.” Dalton glanced at McCann, who nodded in response. “It’s a scouting mission. We’ll get in, see what we can, and then reassess the danger to us when we get back. We leave in the morning,” Dalton said.
“I want to go, but you’re right, I might slow you guys down,” Graham said. “This concerns us all. He’s certain they’re Islamic terrorists?”
McCann brought three cups of coffee to the table, and Dalton took a sip. “He’s positive, but that’s why we’re going—to make doubly sure.”
“They really did this? They created mass genocide with a virus just so they could have our land?” McCann asked, shaking his head in disbelief that people could actually be so evil.
“What man does in the name of religion—or their perverted interpretation of it—has been going on for centuries, McCann,” Graham tried to explain. “They’re barbaric, and this is their jihad. It’s what they promised.”
“We’re taking Steven and Sam, too. We leave at first light,” Dalton said. He shot down the rest of his coffee and rose from the table.
“Is Dutch going to stick around for a few days?” Graham asked.
“I don’t know. He seemed rather excited to leave,” Dalton said. We’ll see; the guy seems to have his own way of doing things.”
McCann nodded.
“We’ll be by in the morning, kid. Be ready,” Dalton reminded him as he strolled out of the cabin.
“Well,” Graham said as he stared out the window in contemplation. “I’ve never been a violent man, but if this is true, if they are responsible for this, you better believe I will be. That’s what this has taught me: you must fight, or risk losing not only your life and others’ but freedom itself.”
“It’s just hard to wrap your mind around it all,” McCann admitted. “Why? Why would anyone do this?”
“I don’t know, McCann, but they’ve tread on the wrong soil.”
Chapter 20 The Invitation
In the quarantine building, Dalton approached Clarisse from behind; knowing they were alone, he embraced her. She responded and turned around to face him. He kissed her. “I’ve missed you,” he said holding her.
“We’ve both been busy,” Clarisse admitted.
He purposely did this first, knowing he wouldn’t get a chance after he broached the subject. “Clarisse, I need to talk to Lucy. She’s the only one who’s lived to give us information she may not even know she has,” Dalton pleaded.
Clarisse stepped away from him. “Fine, Dalton, but she is very fragile right now. She nearly killed a man because she’s still flashing back, and . . .”
“We’re all going to be fragile or dead soon if we don’t get an edge on whatever information’s available to us,” Dalton interrupted, raising his voice at her. He knew it was a mistake; Clarisse didn’t do intimidation.
She pointed to the door but wouldn’t look at him again. “Go. I’ll bring her to you in half an hour.”
“Clarisse, I’m sor—”
“Out!”
Dalton left the quarantine building knowing he couldn’t say more. As he walked back, he heard the rumble of Dutch’s army truck rolling into camp. He was either on his way in or out of town.
Dalton picked up his pace and walked into the clearing, where Dutch stepped out of his truck, looking around after the guards let him through the gates.
“Hey, Dutch,” Rick said, extending his hand in greeting.
Dalton saw that Rick was at least vertical this morning and back to his normal self, even though he sported a leg bandage. Rick was pissed when he learned he wasn’t going on the scouting mission with them, but the injury would just slow them down. Plus, they still needed him for communications.
“Hey, Dutch,” said Dalton. Not worried about niceties, he continued, “You heading out? Can I convince you to stay a few days till we get back?”
“I’ve thought about it, and yes, I’ll stay until you guys get back. I want to make sure Lucy is getting along all right and that you guys heed my warning,” Dutch said.
“We’re scouting in the morning,” Dalton said. You want to tag along? One last mission?”
“You’re still on that? You can’t just take my word for it, man?” Dutch asked.
Dalton put his hands on his hips. He stared at the ground, thought about the consequences, and then looked squarely at Dutch. “No. I don’t intend to just let them take our country. I’m not going to let them just have it. If it is them, and this is it, I’ll send them all to hell or die trying. I don’t know how I’m going to do that yet, but I need to make sure, and I could use your help.”
He watched Dutch mull over the invitation. The cool spring air held a nip, but the sun shone in bright beams and Dalton thought it shouldn’t be that way. It should be gray and misty, the kind of fog you could get lost in. Dutch’s dark brown hair ran a little long. He was the same height as Dalton, but had a more muscular build, which Dalton guessed was due to farm work. He was the kind of vet who you knew, from the look in his eyes, had seen some grizzly times but had accepted that as his job to bear. Dutch was the kind you never worried about, the kind who watched your back, and Dalton hoped he’d stay with them for the battle.
“I hear you,” Dutch said, and nothing more was needed to make him understand the way Dalton felt. “When I first came across your message, I thought you guys were just a bunch o
f lucky civilians who just happen to have an old HAM operator playing on the waves. I didn’t know you were a tiny army.” He took a deep breath and faced the sun’s rays for a second before looking back at Dalton. “Hell, if you’re willing to take the risk, I’ll tag along. I’ll do it for Lucy, and the last infidels.”
Dalton chuckled at the reference. “That’s what we are, aren’t we? The last infidels. Those bastards . . .” He picked up the seriousness of his gesture and tipped his head at Dutch. “Sounds fine to me. Glad you’re with us.” Dalton shook the man’s hand again, this time with brotherly respect.
“For now I’d like to check in on Lucy and then I need to find my damn dogs,” Dutch said.
“They’re still missing?” Dalton asked.
“Yep. They’re well trained; this isn’t like them,” Dutch said.
“Well, Sheriff over at Graham’s camp was out all night, but just showed up this morning. He’d never done that before either. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”
“Great. Well, that’s the least of our problems right now,” Dutch said, then asked Dalton, “We leave at sunrise?”
“You know it.” Dalton looked past their gate and saw Clarisse heading in his direction with Lucy in tow. He knew Clarisse well enough to see she was still madder than hell.
“Hey, guys, Clarisse is here with Lucy.”
“Hey Sport, how you getting along?” Dutch asked Lucy.
She flashed him a smile and then it was gone, but Dalton thought that was probably a great achievement for Lucy. Then he realized Clarisse was burrowing her eyes into him.
“I told Lucy you needed to question her. Where do you want to do this? I’ll give you ten minutes, and I’ll be present,” Clarisse said.
Dalton nodded and put up both of his hands. “That’s fine, Clarisse. Let’s go into the communications tent. Can Sam attend? He always has a different perspective on these things.”
Clarisse looked like she wanted to explode at him and sever a few important body parts; she was only barely holding it together. She blew out a frustrated breath, turned to Lucy, and held onto her arm gently.
“Lucy, it’s important they get the advantage of all the details of what you witnessed. You’ll have two or three people asking you questions, but I’ll be there for you. Can you do this for us?” Clarisse asked.
“I’ll be there too, Lucy,” Dutch said in his low raspy voice.
Dalton knew he cared for the girl more than he let on. She looked terrified to Dalton, and ready to flee. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.
Lucy looked at him with her light-green eyes; her lips trembled. Dalton was about to call it off when she nodded her quivering chin and tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
He reached to comfort her, but Clarisse and intervened. He should have known it was stupid to try. He needed to be careful with her, but damn the animals that did this to her.
Clarisse hugged her briefly and then turned her toward the communications tent. Dalton and the others followed, but before they entered, Clarisse turned to face them with a glare.
“I’m warning you, go easy,” she said as she guided Lucy inside the tent and left the rest to ponder her warning. “She always like this?” Dutch asked.
“Clarisse? No. Actually, she can be your best friend. Or your worst nightmare; seems I’ve crossed the line here lately,” Dalton admitted.
“My kind of lady,” Dutch said as he passed Dalton into the tent.
“Great,” Dalton mumbled as he waited for Sam to join them.
Chapter 21 Saying Good-Bye
“Do you have everything?” Tala asked McCann.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he pulled the strings taut on his pack.
“What about your med kit?” Marcy asked him.
“Got it.”
“McCann, you got the extra magazine?” Graham called from the dining room.
“Sure do,” he exclaimed. Their questions were starting to drive him a little crazy. “You guys, I need to travel light. I’ll probably be back by tomorrow night or the next morning. Don’t worry.”
“Plan for the worst, hope for the best,” Graham said, remembering what his father always used to say.
“Yeah, my dad said that, too.”
“Where are you going?” Bang asked. He’d come in the door without making a sound and, though they weren’t hiding the fact that McCann was going on a dangerous scouting mission with the preppers, they hadn’t told him or the rest of the group yet.
McCann looked at Tala, and Tala looked at Graham as if someone else might have the answer.
“He’s leaving in the morning to go with the preppers on a scouting trip. He should be back in a day or two. We’re trying to make sure he has all the stuff he might need,” Graham said.
“When were you going to tell me?” Macy said from the doorway, not yet visible to the others. Everyone looked from Macy to McCann.
“Macy, it’s not a big deal. I thought you heard about it this morning,” McCann explained.
“Why can’t I go too?” she asked.
“Macy,” Graham answered before anyone else could, “this isn’t one of those times where you’re being kept out because you’re a girl; he’s going because I can’t go.”
“Okay. Still, why can’t I go, too?” she asked.
“There isn’t room in the Jeep for more than five, Macy, and I need you here to take care of the horses. You’re the only one they’re not too skittish around,” McCann said.
Mark was about to protest that assessment when McCann widened his eyes at him to get him to clam up.
“Yeah,” Mark shook his head. “Mosey kicked me last time I mucked out the stalls,” he said, staring at the floor.
“That’s because Macy talks to them when she’s in there alone. I’ve heard her,” Bang said.
“I do not!” Macy said, leaving the room.
McCann let out a frustrated breath and thought it was getting a little too stuffy in the cabin. They were seldom all indoors during the day at the same time anymore since the weather had warmed up. Even Sheriff was still lollygagging on the wood floor of the bunkroom, sleeping off his adventures of the night before.
McCann would miss them all, but it was a just a little trip. But it also happened to be the longest trip he’d be taking since he rode into town, and potentially more dangerous than he could fathom. No story ever foretold such calamities so close to home. No one ever predicted this kind of hell. It was one thing to imagine independence as a teenager, to long for it even, but it was something else to survive everyone you ever knew and be expected to go on day after day. Just when McCann thought that might even be possible, the story had now changed.
Now not only had there been a massive pandemic that had wiped out humankind, but someone had done it on purpose and that someone was now here on their own land, in America, and boasting about it, proud of it.
“You know, McCann . . .” Graham said, interrupting McCann’s thoughts and causing him to look up from packing. He noticed that everyone was gone except Graham.
“When I taught math at the University of Washington, my attitude about war and fighting was very different from how it is now; life has a way of teaching you out of your best intentions. I didn’t believe in patriotism; I only believed in humanity, and that we should embrace our enemies. The only problem with that way of thinking is that, while you’re embracing your enemies, they’re flying our own planes into buildings, killing thousands of innocent people. They’re developing evil plans to corrupt a religion and declare jihad on anyone who denounces them.” He pounded his cane out of frustration to the floor. “Dammit, I was wrong. It wasn’t us; it was them. They were plotting genocide while I was trying to embrace them. Everything I tried to stand for, every argument I won, was nothing more than blind faith in humanity where evil will remain a component.
“I once was blind, McCann. Now I see, and if there is any way we can stop them, we will. You come back to us in one piece. We’re going to need y
ou.” He reached out for a handshake and then pulled McCann in.
“Will do, Graham.” McCann was thankful for Graham’s concern, but then added, in a worried voice, “Make damn sure Macy doesn’t follow us.”
Graham looked serious. “I’ll tie her up somewhere.”
“Good luck with that,” McCann said jokingly, though in fact he was completely serious.
Chapter 22 The Debriefing
Lucy sat down in a metal folding chair inside the media tent, amid a hum of electronics. Her pale slender hands were like icicles, and she pushed them down between her thighs for warmth. Clarisse had given her fatigues and a pair of hiking boots to wear. She was thankful to finally wear clothing that actually fit her instead of having to adjust Dutch’s much-too-large apparel. They weren’t fashionable by any means, but at least they were hers, and now she felt more secure.
Sam pointed a space heater toward her to warm up her legs. She’d met him the night before at dinner along with several other people. She also met with Rick and cried when she apologized to him, fearing he would be angry with her. He wasn’t, of course, but she knew he didn’t trust her either.
“Lucy,” Clarisse said, “tell us what you remember. Just start from the beginning and know that we might stop you briefly to ask you questions along the way. Please just answer the best you can. We can stop anytime you need to. This is a safe place, and we are your friends. No one is going to harm you here.”
“Okay. I . . . lived near Spokane in a little town called Liberty Lake.” She looked up and saw several people nod, acknowledging that they knew where the place was; the town was the last stop in Washington along Interstate 90 before the Idaho border.
She shook her head. “I thought I was the only one left there. It’s really just a big suburban neighborhood. I lived with my parents in a house on Settler Road and worked at the Safeway grocery store there right in the middle of town. I was going to school at Eastern Washington University, and when the virus broke out, they shut the school down.” She stared into her lap. “My parents . . . they died. My little brothers, too.” Her tears fell to her lap, making darker pooling stains of green on the camo fabric of her pants. Clarisse handed her a clean cloth, and Sam wrapped a wool army blanket around her shoulders.