The Last Orchard (Book 2): The Last Orchard

by Hunt, James

  Charlie gestured toward the back of the Humvee. “Got a present for him.”

  The guard narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Charlie and then motioned for the second guard to investigate.

  “Holy shit, Sarge.” The guard stuck his head from out the back. “They’ve got enough C-4 to blow us all to kingdom come!”

  Sergeant Scarborough briskly headed toward the Humvee’s rear, and Charlie watched the man’s face light up in surprise, as if his soldier had lied to him.

  “Christ, Charlie,” Scarborough said. “Is it stable?

  Charlie looked to Jason.

  “Yes,” Jason answered. “Just don’t touch it.”

  Scarborough retracted a finger and then placed his hands on his hips. “Let them through! And radio Commander Dixon that he has company.”

  The gate went up, and Charlie waved goodbye to the gate guards.

  Over the past year, Mayfield had been transformed from a sleepy little northwestern town into a fully-operable military installation.

  Most of the buildings that could be repaired after the fires last year were patched up, but the first several dozen houses and businesses that Charlie saw outside his window would most likely never be rebuilt again.

  Charlie had asked Dixon one time why he didn’t have his men clear the rubble at the front of the town once he started to get more manpower, and Dixon simply told him that it was because he didn’t want his men to forget what the enemy could do.

  Soldiers traversed the sidewalks, another transformation of the little town. Gone were the days of tourists visiting from different parts of the country, and Charlie never thought he’d miss them as much as he did now.

  The farther they traveled into town, the more militarized it became, and just before they reached Dixon’s office, which used to be the town’s old hardware store, Charlie saw the hospital and then the power plant in the distance.

  It was where Dixon had the highest levels of security. Soldiers and watchmen were crawling over every square inch of space. Guard towers had been erected at the plant’s four corners and were manned twenty-four hours.

  Nick parked in front of the commander’s building, and Charlie stepped out of the Humvee just as Commander Dixon exited the building, flanked by his staff.

  “Charlie,” Dixon said, no hint of joy or excitement in his voice at the sight of his old friend. “I was told you had a surprise for me.” He shook Charlie’s hand. “I wasn’t told if it was good or bad.”

  “I’m not sure which one it is yet either.”

  Dixon grunted and then rubbed his freshly shaven face. While Charlie had grown his beard and shaggy hair, Dixon maintained his grooming habits.

  Charlie opened the back of the Humvee and watched Dixon’s face as the commander eyed the stacks of C-4 bricks.

  “You found these at the cell you raided?” Dixon asked, focused on the enormous amount of bricks.

  “And these.” Charlie handed over the blueprints, and the lines of concern that covered Dixon’s face deepened as he examined them closely.

  Dixon shuffled through the papers, shaking his head. “Where is this?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Charlie answered.

  Dixon handed the papers to one of the men next to him, then ran his palms over his freshly-buzzed head. He faced Charlie. “Let’s take a walk.”

  The pair of men headed toward the power plant, but they walked alone. Dixon was quiet for a while and waited until they were out of earshot of anyone nearby.

  “We’re less than three weeks away from having the power plant operational,” Dixon said, ending the silence.

  “I thought it was at least three months,” Charlie said.

  “That’s what I’ve told people, and that’s what I want them to believe.” Dixon kept his hands pinned behind his back, his posture rigid and unyielding even in motion. “Over the past year, we’ve wiped out more terrorist cells than I can count. The total kill number is sitting somewhere in the thousands.” He stopped dead in his tracks, gazing out at the power plant in the distance, the shouts of the men on patrol drifting toward them. “And yet we still find more of them every week. It’s like there’s a leak in the boat and we just can’t fucking plug it.”

  Charlie stepped around and blocked Dixon’s view of the power plant. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

  Dixon hesitated, but finally nodded as though he concluded the argument in his head. “Intelligence coming in from Seattle is telling us that the remaining terrorist threat in our region is scaling up for an attack. We intercepted a few messages between some of the smaller parties, but we don’t know when or where. Our best guess was they were going to hit the power plant, but the truth is we don’t know.”

  “And you think the C-4 we found is a part of that?” Charlie asked.

  “I don’t know.” Dixon shook his head, those worry lines on his face growing deeper and aging the young man right before Charlie’s eyes. It was the smallest details that gave the former lieutenant away. The dark circles under his eyes, the drooped shoulders, the strands of gray that had appeared prematurely.

  Charlie was sure that he’d aged over the past year, but it had been a while since he’d checked himself in a mirror. In fact, he avoided them as much as possible.

  “If the terrorists are gearing up for something, then we have to assume there are another dozen places like the one we just raided, and better guarded,” Charlie said. “I doubt that we just happened to stumble on the only cell manufacturing explosives. That stuff was homemade, which means that their recipe has more than likely been passed around.” He stepped closer to Dixon. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything that you know?”

  Dixon’s expression went from friend to commander in less than a second. “We have an agreement, Charlie. But I’m not obliged to pass along every piece of intelligence that I receive back to you. Our relationship has worked best by the pair of us staying in our lanes. So why don’t we stick to that?”

  “And you’re sure that there isn’t anything else I need to know?” Charlie asked, still pressing the issue.

  Dixon remained stoic, but Charlie noticed the struggle just below the surface. Finally, the commander relented.

  “The Orchard might be a target,” Dixon said.

  “What?” Charlie had expected a surprise, but this had come out of the left field.

  “That is the only other large structural resource in the area,” Dixon replied. “You and your team have developed a reputation, and it’s no secret that you supply half the food for our military efforts.”

  “How long have you known?” Charlie asked.

  “That’s not your concern.”

  “It is if it means that my people have been open to a full-blown assault and you haven’t told me about it!” Charlie’s cheeks reddened from the sudden burst of anger, and his outburst was caught by a few nearby soldiers on their walk from the power plant.

  Dixon leaned into Charlie’s assault, the commander refusing to back down. “I didn’t get the intel until yesterday, and it was only hearsay. We had zero credibility to believe it was true, and the schematics that you found prove that. Those weren’t drawn up to attack The Orchard, those were buildings.” He gestured toward the power plant. “Probably that one.”

  “What’s the timeline?” Charlie asked.

  “A week. Maybe two.” Dixon shrugged. “The brass in Seattle and Washington are hoping it’s a month, because by then we’ll have the power up. The sooner we can get things back to normal, the easier it’ll be for us to stomp out the insects. We shine a light on them, they scatter. But much of the country is still in the dark. We’re the closest operation to completion, so brass wants to use us as a testing ground.”

  “I need more men for security,” Charlie said.

  “Can’t do that,” Dixon said.

  “If the terrorists really want to disrupt operations out here, you don’t think they’ve considered hitting the food supply? They’ve done
it before.”

  “If we get the power back on, then it won’t matter if the food supply gets hit, because then we’ll have transportation, refrigeration, communications, all of it back online.” Dixon pointed east. “Washington has truckloads of provisions just waiting to get to us, but until we have the power back on and refrigeration to store them, then they stay east of the Mississippi. Not to mention the medicines that are needed over here.”

  “So once the power comes back on, you think you don’t need us?” Charlie asked. “You think that everything will just go back to the way things were—” Charlie snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”

  “I’m just telling you what my orders are, and I need every man here to help defend this place if we’re under attack. The only way the enemy gets through our defenses is if there’s a crack, and I’m not going to willingly create one by giving you some of our men.” He sighed, his voice softening. “I’m sorry. But the answer is no.”

  Charlie laughed, then nodded. “Well, don’t blow yourself up with all of that C-4, all right?”

  Charlie turned to leave, but Dixon called after him.

  “Charlie!”

  Charlie turned.

  “I was planning to come tomorrow, so long as that’s all right with you.”

  Charlie exhaled and then nodded. “See you then.”

  7

  The ride back to The Orchard was quiet. The twins were upset that the C-4 was taken, the pair having a few choice words for the soldiers who unloaded it from the Humvee.

  Lee was still wallowing in agony over his bruised abdomen, and Nick’s contribution on the ride back were the heavy grunts and sighs as he shifted positions in the driver seat, unable to get comfortable.

  Charlie stared out the window on the drive back, his mind racing over the different security nightmares that he’d have to deal with, struggling to come up with the resources needed to ensure the safety of his people.

  Anytime resources were spread thin, it always made it easier for items to fall through the cracks, and that was something Charlie desperately wanted to avoid.

  The sight of the orchard ahead helped ease some of the concerns, aided by the sensation of returning home, which had a new meaning for him. He suspected it had a new meaning for everyone.

  It was late afternoon when they returned, and everyone was on the back end of their work day. Charlie watched field hands work the crops along the Bigelow property, and then saw the clean-up crews still clearing parts of the Decker Orchard. Most of the trees had been removed, leaving only a few skeletons from the past.

  Nick parked the Humvee in front of Doc’s house, and one of the guards on duty was already heading over with a fresh can of fuel to replenish what they’d spent on their journey. It was protocol. Charlie wanted every vehicle they had ready to mobilize at a moment’s notice. It was a worst-case scenario, but he wasn’t going to get caught with his pants down again.

  Lee waddled into Doc’s house in search of some pain relief for his bruises.

  The twins departed without a word, stomping off and still upset over the loss of the explosives.

  “You good, boss?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Nick pounded his fist twice on the Humvee’s hood and then headed toward his trailer.

  Charlie lingered by the Humvee for a moment, calculating all the possible scenarios the enemy could do to take them out.

  But apart from driving cars lined with explosives straight into the homes and fields that comprised Charlie’s growing village, he arrived at the conclusion that unless the enemy had drastically replenished their ranks, they didn’t have the numbers to take them in an all-out assault. They were too well-defended, and too well-armed.

  “Heard you found some bad shit.”

  Charlie turned around and saw Doc standing in front of his house, wiping his hands with a dirty rag, which he tossed over his shoulder when he finished.

  “Explosives,” Charlie said. “Enough to blow us up at least three times over.”

  Doc groaned and then joined Charlie at the Humvee’s hood, resting his forearms on top of the rusted metal.

  “You’re sure it was meant for us?” Doc asked.

  “I don’t know.” Charlie mirrored Doc’s body language. “Dixon doesn’t think so, but none of it feels right.” He frowned. “Whatever intelligence that they think they’re intercepting in Seattle might be bloated, outdated, wrong, or all three. The idea that there are enough cells still active in our region that possess the manpower to deliver such a coordinated strike doesn’t make any sense. They know they’re on their way out. The best thing for them to do would be to retreat. Head north and get the hell out of dodge.”

  “When I was still a vet, I had a farmer bring in one of his pigs,” Doc said. “He told me that the animal wouldn’t eat, barely even moved at all. Just stayed in one corner of the pen while the other pigs moseyed around like normal. So, I examined the pig, put it through standard physical procedures, and by the time I was finished, I was just as stumped as the farmer. I did blood tests, I pulled tissue samples, I checked for parasitic organisms and every disease in the book, but they all came back negative.”

  “So what was wrong with the pig?” Charlie asked.

  “Nothing,” Doc answered. “From a clinical and scientific standpoint, there was nothing wrong with the animal. A few weeks later, I called the farmer and asked about the animal’s health, and the farmer told me the pig had died. So, still curious and wondering if I missed something, I asked if I could collect the remains for an autopsy, and the farmer gave me permission.” Doc leaned forward. “I checked every square inch of that pig’s innards, and still found nothing. But—” Doc held up a finger. “It made me realize for the first time in my veterinary career that some things couldn’t be explained with reason and science, and from someone who used them every day, it scared the shit out of me.”

  “Either that, or you just couldn’t identify what killed it,” Charlie said. “It could have been something you’ve never seen before, something you hadn’t encountered.”

  “Possibly.” Doc pushed himself off the Humvee. “I suppose the same could be said for your predicament.”

  Charlie lingered by the Humvee long after Doc had walked back into the house. Maybe he was mis-identifying the situation. Maybe the reason he couldn’t find the answer was because he didn’t know the problem. Isn’t that what the terrorists had done with the EMP? The weapon had existed, sure, but Charlie had never heard of it. Neither had half the country.

  On the walk back toward the RV, Charlie made pit stops at the security posts, making sure that those on duty kept a heightened sense of awareness. He also made sure that they passed along the message during the shift changes.

  He returned to an empty trailer, Liz still out in the fields somewhere and Adelyn with the daycare run by Sarah Bigelow.

  Naked, Charlie stepped into the tiny shower, which drew water from a rain collector on the roof. It was nothing more than an upgraded garbage can, but it provided Liz and Charlie with the small comfort of having their own shower.

  It was cold, and smelled, but soap helped take care of that. A few others had their trailers and mobile homes rigged up with similar setups, and those that didn’t bathed down in the river. When they first started that trend, they’d made up schedules for men and woman to go down separately, but after a while, the village got so big that people went down when they pleased. Charlie had noticed that modesty was the first thing to fly out the window when times got tough.

  The cold water drizzled from the faucet, and Charlie rinsed himself of the day. Once finished, he lingered in the shower, letting himself air dry. It was a nice reprieve from the summer heat, and once he was close to dry, he stepped out of the shower and lay on the bed.

  The sheets still smelled like Liz.

  After a minute, he stood and put on a pair of shorts just before the door opened and Liz stepped inside.

  “Hey,”
she said.

  Charlie wait for Adelyn to enter. “Where’s the little monster?”

  “Sarah volunteered to watch her for the night.”

  Charlie smiled and dropped his shorts.

  Liz laughed. “Looks like you’re ready for me.” She peeled off her clothes on her walk toward him, the tan lines from her shirt darkened from her day in the sun. “Do you want me to shower—”

  Charlie reached up and grabbed her, spinning her around and flinging her on the bed as he maneuvered on top of her, then kissed her neck.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  They made love, and when they finished, Charlie joined Liz in the shower. Both returned to the bed still naked, drying off on the sheets.

  The pair lay side by side, facing one another. They were quiet for a while, content with only staring at one another before Liz finally broke the silence.

  “What happened?” Liz asked.

  Charlie reached for her hands and kissed her fingers, then gently massaged her palm with his thumb. “We found some plans at the house we raided. And explosives. A lot of them. Dixon said they have intel about an attack, but they don’t know when or where.”

  Liz furrowed her brow, the light sunburn on her face causing the lines to crease white. “Do they think it’ll happen at the power plant?” She paused. “Or here?”

  “I don’t think it’s for here. But the plans didn’t exactly match up with the power plant either.”

  “What do you think?”

  Charlie hesitated, lingering on the question before finally giving his answer. “I think it’s something new. I think they’re using the last of their energy to hit us with something that we wouldn’t expect. Like they did with the EMP.”

  “Well, that’s a starting point, right?” Liz asked, trying to remain optimistic.

  Charlie nodded, wanting a break from the subject so he could give his brain time to rest. “How are the fields going?”

  Liz smiled. “Good. Really good. Mario says that we’ll have crops for the fall.”

  It was the best news he’d heard all day. “That’ll take pressure off us for any increases in demand we have heading into next year.” He collapsed onto his back. “Thank God.”