The Blackout Series (Book 2): Zero Hour

by Bobby Akart

  “Colton, if you don’t mind, please watch over our home for us,” said Bill. “You’re welcome to anything we have that might be useful. Help yourself.”

  “Yes, by all means,” added Diane. “There isn’t much food left, but Madison might be able to work with some of my other things.”

  The Kaplans joined them on the sidewalk and chatted for a moment. They finally said their goodbyes, and the Youngs held hands as they wheeled their suitcases down the street toward the east. If it were an airport, they’d resemble a loving couple heading toward their departure gate for a vacation. Today, they were just departing.

  Colton tried to steady his nerves as he entered the HPA meeting house. Because of the continuously shrinking crowds, Wren had moved the meeting back inside the sunroom. The combination of adrenaline, instant coffee, and anger put Colton on edge. Another confrontation was coming, and he was ready.

  Wren and Holder took their customary positions at the front of the room. Colton, however, did not attempt to blend into the middle of the crowd this time. He stood front and center, immediately staring down the leaders of the HPA.

  Wren made an opening statement about the FEMA camp at 100 Oaks and encouraged people to consider this option if their supplies were running out. Wren asked them to make a note of their decision to leave on today’s clipboard being circulated. Naturally, thought Colton.

  Colton continued to stare a hole through Wren and Holder. Holder finally picked up on this and nudged Wren while whispering into his ear.

  “Ryman, nice of you to join us,” started Wren sarcastically. “You got something on your mind?”

  “Yeah, I do!” Colton said with a raised voice. “I wanna know who attacked my house last night!” The people in the room began to whisper among themselves, but Colton waited patiently for a reaction from Holder in particular. Holder returned the glare and stood stoic.

  “How would we know, Ryman?” replied Wren. “But it should come as no surprise to anyone in this room. We asked you to contribute to the well-being of your neighborhood, and you refused. You are the type of hoarder the President has condemned, and you’re lucky it wasn’t the National Guard knocking on your door.”

  “At least they’d come in the daylight and to our front door,” Colton shot back. He directed his attention at Holder now. “I mean, what kind of coward lurks through the woods to attack a man, his wife, and young daughter? The same type of coward who brings four or five men with him, firing guns at us.”

  “If they did, Ryman, it was your own selfishness that brought this on,” said Wren. “You should’ve put the needs of everyone on an equal footing with your own.”

  “Shut up!” screamed Colton. “You’re not going to blame me for someone trying to attack my family!”

  The entire room was talking among themselves, and Colton saw Rusty Kaplan move to his side. Rusty whispered to Colton, attempting to diffuse the situation, but Colton was not interested.

  He continued. “Where’s Gene Andrews today?” Colton was shouting. “Is he pullin’ shotgun pellets out of his cowardly—”

  “You need to calm down, Ryman,” said Holder, the veins popping out of his red face and forehead. “Calm down or else—”

  “Or else what, Holder?” asked Colton. “You gonna finish off the job? Where were you last night around one a.m.?”

  Holder didn’t respond, but his body language said it all. He was now nervous because he was implicated. The crowd began to mumble louder.

  “What about it, Holder?” questioned Colton. He took a step closer to Holder and placed his hand on his hip next to his nine millimeter. “Do me a favor, would ya? Repeat these words for me so everyone in this room can hear—let’s finish what we started.”

  A hush came over the room as Holder broke eye contact and looked into the backyard. Was he eyeing an escape route?

  “Say it, Holder,” shouted Colton. “Say the words—let’s finish what we started!”

  Nobody spoke a word while Colton waited for his answer. He wasn’t going to let them off the hook.

  Finally, Wren spoke first. “Listen, Ryman. Everybody here is sorry for what you went through. We’re all glad your family wasn’t hurt, and I’m sure it won’t happen again. This is a time for all of us to pull together, not make accusations that will tear us apart.”

  Colton thought for a moment, but he wasn’t naïve. Wren’s hollow words weren’t going to deter him from the task at hand. He was going to blow this whole thing up.

  “That’s a load of crap, Wren, and you know it!” yelled Colton. He turned to the rest of the homeowners, many of whom stepped back in fear. Good.

  “By a show of hands, how many of you have received food from Wren and the HPA?”

  Two people raised their hands out of forty.

  “Again, by a show of hands, how many of your friends’ vacant homes have been broken into?”

  A third of the room raised their hands this time. The attendees looked at one another and erupted into chatter.

  “Ryman!” shouted Wren, attempting to regain control of the meeting. “That’s enough! Everybody, please, settle down.”

  Colton ignored Wren and continued—this time louder. “All of you who raised your hands, did this happen before or after you notified the HPA that the homes were vacant?”

  “After.”

  “After.”

  People began to look at each other. The response was repeated.

  “After.”

  “After.”

  “After.”

  “Definitely after.”

  Colton nodded his head and smiled. Now his neighbors saw the pattern. He made his closing argument.

  “You’ve been doing their job for them,” said Colton, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder toward Wren and Holder. “You tell them which homes are vacant and therefore safe to break into. They, or their friends the phony National Guardsmen who were here the other day, break in and steal valuables and food from the people they promised to protect.”

  “Whadya mean phony?” asked Rusty.

  “They’re not guardsmen,” replied Colton. “I suspected something the day they attended the meeting out front. Their uniforms were mismatched. Their boots were not military issue, and their demeanor was undisciplined. They’re opportunists posing as our military. Nobody would suspect them of looting.”

  “How do you know for sure?” asked a man in the rear of the room.

  “I saw them leaving a house down the street from me—in broad daylight,” replied Colton. “Their old pickup truck was full of clothing, furniture, and paintings. Wren, Andrews, and Holder gave them the perfect cover. They probably meet up here at night and divide up the stolen property. They hoard the food and medicine for themselves while all of you suffer!”

  Colton saw it in their faces. They were with him now. He swung around to confront Wren and Holder, but he didn’t have to. The shouts from the room were full of hostility.

  “Whaddya have to say for yourselves?”

  “How could you do this to us?”

  “We trusted you!”

  “Did you really attack this man and his family in the middle of the night?”

  Colton and the others were now silent, as all eyes were on Wren and Holder.

  Holder reacted first. He threw his arms up in the air and pushed his way through the crowd toward the screen door leading to the backyard. “I don’t need this. I’m outta here!”

  “Wait! Answer the man’s questions!” A couple of people reached for his arm as he pushed open the door, but Holder evaded their grasp and stormed off. All the attention turned to Wren.

  “What about this, Shane?” asked a woman from the back of the room. “Are you a part of this?”

  Wren held his hands up and attempted to provide a response. Wren was being bombarded with questions, and he tried to lie his way through it or avoid answering altogether. He was squirming and there was no way out.

  Colton had enough, and he was tired. He gradually slid
backward through the crowd. As he did, a few people patted him on the back and thanked him. They wished his family well. All Colton could do was smile and nod. His work was done here—for today.

  Chapter 26

  DAY NINE

  Noon, September 17

  Holder Residence

  Belle Meade, Tennessee

  “Colton, are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Madison. She tucked her handgun into her waistband. Alex realized for the first time that her entire family was armed as they started their day. “Not only did you knock down the proverbial hornet’s nest, but you also kicked it several times as well.”

  “Now more than ever,” replied Colton. “We’ve got to keep a finger on the pulse of the community. We’ve got to appear unfazed by yesterday’s events. Not being shy of another fight is the best way to exude strength and confidence.”

  “What do you think will happen?” asked Alex.

  “I don’t know for sure, honey,” replied Colton. “Our biggest priority is protecting ourselves and our home. Keeping apprised of the neighbors’ attitudes will allow us to make adjustments when it comes to our security. If the situation is hostile, we may have to consider our alternatives to staying here.”

  “Leave?” asked Madison. “But I thought, well, I just thought we could make it work here.”

  Alex instantly became concerned as well. “Daddy, where would we go?”

  “I’m not saying we have to go anywhere. I really don’t know. But we have to consider the possibility, especially with the change in demeanor of our neighbors. Desperation has reached a fever pitch. Families are showing signs of dehydration. Some have dysentery, which expedites the dehydration process.”

  Madison interrupted. “Yesterday, I stopped a man and his wife from coming on our property. They asked if we had a pool because they needed water and wanted to take a bath. They didn’t beg for food. They wanted to go swimming.”

  “Daddy, how would we survive on the road? I mean, isn’t it dangerous out there?”

  Colton gave Alex a hug. “Yes, it is. But it’s become increasingly unsafe here. Even though the numbers are dropping, we’re still in one of the twenty-five largest cities in America. That’s a lot of people who are potential threats. At least in the country, the population is much smaller.”

  Alex gave him a kiss on the cheek as he pulled away and headed toward the kitchen door. Madison joined him and gave Alex instructions. “Honey, we want you to stay here today.”

  “But, Mom, Jimmy is expecting me to come over. I want to try to—”

  “Alex, please. Listen to your mother,” interrupted Colton. “It’s too risky now. People could be watching the house, waiting for us to leave. Plus, Holder is really pissed at me. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t want you in his home.”

  Alex’s body slumped into dejection. She wanted to help, and she was being tied down. Her mom returned and gave her a kiss, then whispered, “Okay?”

  Alex nodded.

  Alex followed her parents outside and watched as they descended the hill towards the Kaplans’ house. For several minutes she walked around the house and then looked for any activity up and down their street. It was desolate.

  She felt for the keys to the house in her pocket and made a decision. This was probably her last chance to get the gun her family so desperately needed—the AR-15. She would beg Jimmy. She would turn on the waterworks in feigned distress. She would even kiss him if she had to. She was going to get that gun.

  Alex quickly locked the door and made her way through the backwoods to Jimmy’s. The garage door was closed as always, but the sliding glass doors entering the den were open. She cautiously approached them and entered the house from the backyard. Something felt—wrong.

  She didn’t call out Jimmy’s name as she had during her past visits. Today was different. She might not be welcome. She stuck her head around the corner and looked into the kitchen. Empty. Then she heard muffled voices and a crash that sounded like a box hitting the floor.

  The door to the basement was open. Then she heard Jimmy’s pleading voice.

  “Please! I didn’t mean anything by it. Just leave me alone. If you hate me so much, why don’t you just let me go?”

  “Shut up, you snot-nose little …”

  WHACK!

  Alex couldn’t hear the rest because of Jimmy’s wails. He was crying in pain. What’s happening down there? Alex started to back away from the stairwell to return home.

  WHACK!

  ARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!

  THUMP!

  “Please, no more. I’m sorry. Please don’t hit me again!” Jimmy was begging for mercy.

  WHACK!

  Holder was beating Jimmy downstairs. The hackles rose up on Alex’s neck, and she pulled her gun. She bounded downstairs—fearless.

  What she found in the dimly lit room sickened her. Jimmy was huddled in the far corner of the room, naked except for a pair of boxer shorts. He was curled up in the fetal position with huge bloody welts on his back.

  Holder reached back with all his might and swung a studded leather belt down upon Jimmy’s back again, drawing more blood.

  WHACK!

  Alex stood motionless for a moment, unsure of what to do. Jimmy was sobbing and defenseless. Her trembling hands raised the gun and pointed it at Holder. Jimmy saw Alex and moaned, “Run!”

  Holder spun around and stared at Alex. She tried to steady her nerves.

  “Who are you?” he bellowed. “What are you doing here? Wait, I know you. You’re the Ryman kid. Great. Another brat that needs to be taught a lesson.” He started towards her.

  “Stop!” shouted Alex.

  Holder hesitated when he was twenty feet away and then charged at her.

  Law enforcement officers were taught that a suspect armed with a knife or other non-gun weapon and within twenty-one feet presented a deadly threat. The average man could close that twenty-one-foot gap in less than two seconds. In those same two seconds, an officer must recognize the threat, draw, point their weapon, and then pull the trigger.

  Alex didn’t have law enforcement training, but she did have survival instincts. Her physiological reaction to the threat Holder posed was to stand her ground, squeeze the trigger, and fire.

  BOOM!

  The sound of the gunshot within the confined space of the basement was deafening. The muzzle blast bounced back at Alex off the four walls. Her ears began to ring as she exhibited the concussive effect from the shot.

  Alex tried to focus. Did she shoot Holder? She was partially blinded by the muzzle flash.

  “UGH!” groaned Holder. She could hear him on the floor, clawing his way toward her. She couldn’t see. But she could feel him.

  Through the fog that had consumed her senses, she saw him lunge toward her.

  “You filthy little b—” he shouted as he grabbed for her ankles.

  Alex quickly backed away from him and shot downward. The momentum of the pistol forced her backward, and she fell hard onto the concrete floor. Her head was pounding now, and she couldn’t hear. Alex quickly became disoriented.

  She barely remembered Jimmy streaking past her and running up the stairs. He didn’t stop to help her. He just ran away.

  Alex sat there, still pointing the weapon in Holder’s direction. He wasn’t moving. A rush of air entered the room as Jimmy apparently opened the front door, creating cross ventilation through the house. Is he going for help? Did he leave me here alone? With Holder? Why isn’t he moving?

  Alex’s entire body was shaking as she stood, still pointing the gun at Holder’s body. She was afraid to get too close, so she picked up a box of ammunition off the workbench and threw it at the body. It hit Holder in the back with an audible squish as the bullets splashed into a gaping wound.

  No movement or reaction. She grabbed another box, throwing it harder this time and with a little anger attached. Squish, followed by the sound of brass rolling around on the floor.

  Alex was mad as she sh
outed at Holder’s dead body. “You made me kill you! What’s wrong with you? Oh, God!”

  Alex collapsed against the workbench for a moment and stared at the body. She began to sob and shake uncontrollably. She tortured herself as she wailed in pain, grief, and anger.

  Her head was pounding. Her ears were ringing. Her eyes were blurred from the flashes of light and the unbridled tears.

  She’d taken a man’s life. She’d taken what God had given to every man and woman.

  Then, fifteen-year-old Alex Ryman asked God for forgiveness and thanked him for keeping her alive.

  Chapter 27

  DAY NINE

  1:00 p.m., September 17

  Holder Residence

  Belle Meade, Tennessee

  Colton and Madison felt like two kids again as the raindrops began to pelt their faces. It was a welcome relief after two weeks of drought and searing heat. The meeting at the HPA went well. Wren, whose attitude had changed dramatically, was conciliatory and apologetic. The transformation was remarkable in the absence of his cohorts—Andrews and Holder.

  As they began the trudge up the driveway, the rain came down harder. Colton actually laughed as they became drenched. The joyous mood quickly ended, however, when he saw his daughter. It was actually Madison who first noticed that something was wrong with Alex. She let go of his hand and ran in a full sprint to the front porch.

  Alex sat with her elbows propped on her knees. Her handgun was barely dangling from her fingers. She was completely oblivious to the pouring rain that drenched her body.

  Madison took the gun from Alex and set it on the step. She crouched down in front of Alex and moved the wet hair covering her face. Colton studied his daughter’s blank, expressionless look. She appeared to be in shock.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” asked Madison. “Why are you sitting here like this? Are you okay?”

  Alex moved her head in an imperceptible nod. Colton looked around and placed his hand on his weapon. Was she attacked? Is there someone inside? He needed to get them out of the rain.