Cami leaned against a tree and let her heart rate slow back to normal. “You scared me half to death.”
Marty looked at her and frowned, though his eyes were kind. “Good. You need to be scared, what with you having that girl at home.”
“Marty, she’s in college…she can take care of herself.”
“Still a child.”
Cami shook her head and smiled. “So, you don’t need any help? There weren’t any intruders?”
“Not the two-legged kind, no,” he said, spitting again. “Not yet, at least. Don’t need no other help, neither. But you do,” he said, nodding at her. “I suppose I can help, on account of we’re neighbors and all.” He sighed. “You folks make a good buffer for me.”
“Buffer?” asked Cami. “What?”
“Just now, when you come runnin’ out of the house, if I’d been up to no good, you’d be dead or worse. And your little girl at my mercy.” He raised a hand. “I know you got that young buck in there with you—but I could tell the moment I saw him, he ain’t no fighter. Probably plays a mean video game…”
Cami’s shoulders slumped. How could he have known that much? “We never even saw you…how—”
“Just ‘cause you can’t see a man don’t mean he ain’t there.” He tapped the side of his head. “Age and experience, missy, age and experience.” He reached down and grabbed the tail of one of the coyotes. “Want to get that other one? Just grab the tail—that’s it. We’re gonna drag ‘em over here and dump ‘em down the ravine out back. Let the skunks have ‘em.”
Cami followed her elderly neighbor through the trees and fallen leaves to the back of his property, where the forest preserve border ran along the length of his yard. They found a shallow ravine just where he’d said, and they shoved the coyotes over the edge to tumble, limp as rag dolls to the bottom, scattering leaves and twigs along the way.
“Now,” said Marty, producing a filthy rag from his back pocket. “Here, wipe your hand on this—them things are fearsome dirty.”
Once cleaned, Marty lead her back to to his house. “This is what they was after,” he said, showing her the camouflaged quail pen. Once it had been a play fort, ubiquitous in suburban back yards and made of the same red cedar no matter where they were found.
“I thought you told me this belonged to the previous owner…and you were just too busy to have it removed?”
Marty nodded, catching his breath after the walk from the ravine. “True. Never had kids of our own. But no one ever woulda thought to look in here for our quail. Especially that nosy homeowner association.”
Cami smiled. Harriet Spalding, on the executive board of the local HOA, would positively have kittens if she knew Marty surreptitiously kept livestock right under her nose. “This is genius, Marty.”
“It suits my purposes. Fresh meat and plenty of eggs. They grow fast, they’re quiet, and they don’t take much in the way of upkeep. But they can’t protect themselves against coyotes.”
Cami nodded, watching the adorable little birds scurry to and fro in their enclosed, multi-level habitat. The wire grated floor let all their droppings fall into a removable tray to keep the ground clean under the treehouse. Water bottles and food containers hid behind false panels on the back of the structure, creating a self-contained, protected habitat.
“I can see you’re very proud of this—and you should be,” Cami said. “Something like this could come in very handy if things go any further sideways.”
Marty nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.” He looked at the birds for a moment, then turned back to Cami. “I have a proposition for you, missy.”
Cami smiled.
“Don’t get yer hopes up, I ain’t that young no more.”
Cami laughed. “You’re alright, Marty, you know that?”
“‘Course I am.” He cleared his throat. “Listen here, missy. I’m getting up in age—I know, I still look like a spring chicken,” he said when Cami smiled, “but these old bones don’t appreciate having to drag my carcass out here to check on the flock.” He looked at the birds, then back at Cami. “I’ll make you a deal—if I teach you and that girl of yours to care for these here birds, I’ll cut you in on a share of the meat and eggs. They give me more’n I can eat, anyhow.”
“That’s very generous of you, Marty. I’d be happy to help, but—”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think things weren’t going south faster than I like. There’s safety in numbers, y’hear?”
Cami nodded. “I surely do.”
He placed a palsied hand on the quail cage and watched it tremble. “Them coyotes been sniffin’ around here for weeks. Finally got bold enough to chase ol’ Kirk off and I figured, welp, that’s the last straw. Some things just need killing.” He sighed. “Took me a lot more shots to get the job done. Just winged the first one.” He shook his head. “I meant to kill ‘em, not make ‘em suffer…”
Cami reached out a hand and placed it over Marty’s, calming the trembling. “It’s okay to ask for help. We’ll be here when you need us.”
He smiled then, like a grimace, and nodded. “I do believe you’re telling the truth.” He removed his hand from the cage and sniffed, standing a little straighter. “Now where’s that husband of yours? Been gone for almost a week now, I reckon.”
Cami looked down. “He was on a business trip. He won a contest at work—a deep sea fishing trip. How did you—”
Marty shook his head. “That’s some bad timing. Where to?”
Cami took a breath to calm her nerves long enough to speak. “Boston.”
Marty cursed softly and looked away. “Was he on land?”
“Just leaving the dock, last time I talked to him,” Cami said, the corners of her vision starting to blur. She started to speak and then words came tumbling out, faster and faster. “Since then, I’ve only gotten one text message. I just don’t know what’s going on…I don’t…” she took a shuddering breath and exhaled. It was time to release her fears—she couldn’t do it in front of Amber and Mitch, but with Marty, she felt safe to let it out. “I don’t know if he’s alive or…or not.”
Marty was quiet for a moment, looking up at the trees, watching the sunlight filter in through the pine boughs and oak leaves. Birds returned after the shooting and chirped at each other, hopping between the trees. Finally, Marty turned to look at Cami. “Does he love you?”
“Excuse me?” Cami asked, sniffing.
“Does he love you?”
Cami nodded. “He does.” She smiled. “With all his heart.”
“And you love him?”
“Of course,” she replied, a little testy. “I don’t see—”
“Then he’ll be back,” Marty said simply.
Cami shook her head. “I don’t—how…how could you know?”
Marty looked at her, leaning on his cane, his AR draped over one bone-thin shoulder. “I was young once, did you know that?”
Cami snorted. “I think we all were. Then we grow up.”
“Some of us,” Marty said wistfully. His eyes focused on her again, as if he’d just noticed she was there. “When I was little, my pops was in the Army. World War II, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” Cami said quietly, afraid of what was coming next. Losing a father at a young age might explain why Marty had turned out so…crotchety as an old man.
“Pops was caught in a surprise German offensive. Put in a POW camp. He escaped, though,” he said quickly. “Fought behind enemy lines for two months and made it back home to my momma. The military gave us papers and witness reports and all kinds of proof of what he went through—starvation, sickness, beatings, witnessed horrible things, just horrible. But he made it. He bulled his way through all of it, Nazis, and a world war…to get home. To her.”
Cami felt the tears coming. At the moment, she knew exactly what being a mother with her husband overseas in a war—with no instant communication, no TV, no information at all—felt like. She wiped at her face and nod
ded, hoping he’d continue.
“Point is, love is the most powerful motivator known to man. People will do the stupidest things, the most heroic things, the most noble things…all in the name of love.” He cleared his throat. “If your man loves you like that, well…all this,” he said, gesturing at the world around them, turned upside down by the mega-tsunami. “This don’t stand a snowball’s chance of stopping him.” He winked at her. “And you can take that to the bank, missy.”
Cami stepped forward and hugged him, sobbing on his shoulder. He stiffened in surprise at her embrace and didn’t return it, but she didn’t care. She cried for Reese, she cried for Amber, she even cried for Mitchell. She just let it all out.
After a few minutes of pouring her soul into his shoulder, she wiped at her face and stepped back. “I’m sorry…” she muttered. “But thank you.”
Marty cleared his throat, then spat. “Well, that’s fine, that’s fine…just don’t think you’re making it a habit, y’hear? Last thing I need is an angry husband come walking through my door thinking I stole his wife while he was out of town!”
Cami hadn’t laughed so hard in a long, long time.
“Mom! Seriously—what is going on out here?” Amber called from their yard, sounding like an irate mother calling for a mischievous three-year-old. “You’ve been out here for like, ten minutes! Mitch and I were getting worried.”
“Not worried,” Mitch hollered. “Just for the record—ow!”
“Stop hitting him, Amber, and you two come here,” Cami said, unable to keep from smiling. When they picked their way through the tree line, Cami turned to Marty.
“You know Amber, my daughter, and this is Mitchell, her friend. A friend of the family—his dad runs the Marina in Charleston, over on the Ashley River?”
Marty nodded. “Saw that was pretty bad. He get out?”
“Yes, sir,” Mitch said. “He’s on his way here. Should be here in a couple days.”
“Good. You young’uns listen to this here woman, you hear me? She’s gonna be all right—and you will, too—but you gotta be smart about things.”
“Mr. Price—”
“Call me Marty. My…” he looked at Cami. “My friends call me Marty.”
Amber nodded. “Marty. Was that you shooting earlier?”
“Yep. Killed a couple coyotes that got too big for their britches.”
Mitch looked around. “Is someone yelling?”
Cami listened. “That sounds like…”
“Is that the Spalding woman?” Marty growled. He spat at his feet. “I’m going inside.” Turning back, he pointed at Cami. “You’d be smart to stay clear of that woman. She’s nothing but trouble.”
“Cami!” Harriet yelled, running across the yard in a flapping pink velour bathrobe and hair curlers. The fur trimmed flip flops on her feet looked like wet cats by the time she reached them, breathless.
“Dadgummit,” Marty complained, holding his ground as Harriet stormed up.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, then coughed, covering her chest, then noticed Mitch and Amber. “Oh. Hello.” Harriet stood straighter, tightening the robe around her, and coughed again.
“Harriet, this is Amber, my daughter, and Mitchell—a family friend. His father is meeting us here—he was in Charleston and had to evacuate.”
“That’s terrible,” Harriet said, covering her mouth as if the mere mention of Charleston was foul smelling. She turned to Cami, as if Amber and Mitch didn’t exist, not missing a beat. “What was all the shooting? Are you okay?”
“I—” Marty started.
“There was a rabid coyote!” Amber blurted.
Cami couldn’t help but notice the freshly painted nails on Harriet’s manicured fingers. “Yes, it was coming at me while I was tending the garden…Marty saved my life by shooting it.”
Marty’s face darkened in embarrassment, but he didn’t argue.
“Good heavens!” Harriet looked around, the hair curlers bobbing with the movement. “Are they gone?”
“Oh, they’re gone,” Marty said, smirking.
“What is this world coming to, when rabid animals are free to roam decent neighborhoods like ours? I’m going to give the local wildlife office a call just as soon as I get home. This cannot stand! We have children in this neighborhood!”
“No,” Mitch said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“It’s true!” Harriet blurted, missing the barb completely.
“You should have seen it, foam dripping from his jaws, snarling…it was awful,” Amber said eagerly. She raised her hands like claws and pretended to scratch at Harriet. Cami gave her a look and Mitch turned away, his shoulders shaking.
“Rabies!” Harriet gasped. “This…” she said, stepping back from the group, curlers bobbing with every step. “This is all too much…Henry never came home last night…we missed our dinner reservations…”
Cami looked at Marty, who raised one eyebrow.
“I…rabies…my goodness,” she said, looking around as if a rabid coyote lurked behind every tree, ready to jump out and pounce on her.
“Harriet, your husband didn’t come home last night? Doesn’t he work in Charleston?”
“What? Yes,” Harriet said, still looking behind her. A dog barked in the distance and she squeaked in surprise. “I…I need to get home…I need…do be careful!” she said over her shoulder and broke into the most awkward sprint Cami had ever seen.
“What the Kentucky am I watching right now?” asked Marty, leaning forward on his cane.
Harriet ran across the yard, tripped, and slid on her stomach a good three yards, flinging one of her designer flip-flops out into the street. She clambered to her feet and ripped the remaining flip-flop off. Harriet staggered out to the road, crying, and scooped up it’s matching partner, then hobbled down her driveway, looking left and right the whole time.
Mitch doubled over in laughter. Even Cami found it hard not to laugh.
“I think she lost a curler…” Amber pointed out, deadpan. That sent Mitch into a fresh laughing fit.
“Don’t,” Marty said, with a warning look to them all. “That woman is trouble. Keep an eye on her.” From inside his house, Kirk barked. He bounced up and down behind a high window on the wall closest to them. “I need to be going now. Kirk wants his breakfast. Listen here—if it’ll ease your worry, I’ll put the word out on the ham nets about your husband.”
“You will? You can?” Cami blurted.
Marty nodded. “Easy as eatin’ pancakes. No promises, mind you, but the hams are working the bands, and someone might get word to him.”
Cami smiled. “Thank you, Marty. Thank you so much.”
Marty nodded. “Y’all take care.” He turned away to leave, performing a smart about face, then turned back. “Missy, when you get…decent…” his face flushed and he cleared his throat. “Come on back and I’ll give you the run down on them quail. And a radio.”
“A radio?” asked Cami.
“Decent?” asked Amber, looking at Cami. “Quail?”
“Missy? This just keeps getting better and better,” Mitch laughed.
Marty nodded at Cami, ignoring the other two. “We need to keep in touch. For emergencies, you hear? Got a couple short range walkie-talkies. Figured you may as well have one. Can’t use ‘em both, can I?”
“Well, that’s very kind—”
“Good. See you later, then.”
Cami watched him walk away, his cane thumping into the fallen leaves and pine needles that carpeted the ground under the trees. She turned back to see Amber and Mitch barely containing their laughter. “What?”
“Never heard anyone say you were indecent before, that’s all,” Amber said. “Missy.”
Cami plucked at the boxers she wore. Suddenly she felt exposed. “Enough—get back inside, you two. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. Your father’s coming home and we need to make sure this place is ready.”
“Ready for what?” asked Amber as they emerged from t
he trees into their own yard.
Cami stopped and took in the sight of her garden, dew glistening in the morning sun, the trees of the forest preserve behind and around them, her yard, the house…the life she and Reese had built. It was a good place, a place worth saving.
“We’re going to be ready to survive whatever’s coming,” Cami said.
“As long as it’s breakfast, I think I’m ready,” Mitch offered.
They shared a laugh heading into the house, and Cami felt a sense of hope swell in her chest. They weren’t alone any longer—they had Marty, his ham network, his quail, and his skills. They had food, they had power, and they had shelter. Cami paused on the deck while the kids went inside. She looked out over the garden again.
“And I aim to defend it,” she muttered under her breath.
Chapter 22
Ellsworth, Maine
An older man in an Army Veteran baseball cap tamped down the last clod of muddy soil. The little mound of mud and dirt still looked obscene to Reese's bloodshot eyes. He’d passed out sometime before dawn, after the adrenaline surge from the raid had faded. He’d tried to process Ben's loss, but his mind and body had simply had enough.
When he’d woken to the bright dawn, Jo had walked him around the back of the store, treating him as if he were an invalid, and brought him to Ben's grave. A simple, shallow grave topped with still drying soil. Crude, but effective.
Locals, hearing of the attack on the police the night before in the parking lot—and the subsequent raid on the Walmart in the hours before dawn—had gathered to mourn the loss of three police officers killed during the fighting. They also grieved for the stranger, the outsider who'd given his life in defense of the supplies destined for the town.
Jo explained that a dozen men with shovels had respectfully dug a grave behind the Walmart and carefully laid Ben to rest. Now they were finished filling it in and stepped back. Reese wiped at his face as the men with shovels bowed their heads in a moment of silence, then slowly dispersed back to their families. Two of them lingered, then approached Reese with outstretched hands, thanking him for staying in the store during the night and taking the brunt of the attack.
Broken Tide | Book 1 | Overfall Page 23