Flashpoint (Book 3): Fallout

by Ellis, Tara

  “I take it our government survived,” Sam pressed when Pratt fell silent as they neared the tent. “Or else you wouldn’t be here.”

  Specialist Pratt turned then, one hand on the tent opening. “The civilian government is gone. General Montgomery was deemed the highest-ranking official left in the military and he declared martial law. He’s running things out of Cheyenne Mountain.”

  “Colorado,” Danny muttered. The only thing she knew about the facility was from her love for sci-fi and survival shows. It wasn’t a shock to hear that they no longer had a president—or a cohesive country, for that matter—but to know that everything was being overseen by some general in an underground bunker?

  “It’s EMP-hardened,” Pratt continued. “A virtual city, I guess. The rest of our military wasn’t so lucky. We might have survived the flashpoint in the western half of the country, but we’re still facing the same issues as everyone else. We have some EMP-protected gadgets, but aside from a few generators, we’re all in the same boat.

  “This is your stop,” he said to Sam. “Find a cot, get some sleep, and I’ll come by tonight to check on you.”

  Danny looked around the unimpressive infirmary. She could see a row of cots inside, with only a couple of them occupied. A woman was seated at a table, and Danny assumed she was some sort of nurse or technician.

  “I’ll be fine,” Sam reassured her.

  “I’ll come back later, too,” Danny promised, looking at Pratt and challenging him to contradict her. When he shrugged at her instead, she gave Sam a quick hug goodbye. “Rest up. We’re getting out of here tomorrow,” she whispered in his ear.

  After they parted, Danny once again followed Pratt, who was leading her deeper into that section of the camp. It was comprised of a dozen other large canvas tents in an orderly row, six to a side. Two large fire pits occupied the space in between them, as well as three picnic tables. The handful of women Danny had already seen were busy moving water, firewood, and large plastic containers around. Two others were working with a soldier to set up another tent in what would eventually be a new row.

  “We don’t have a whole lot of refugees yet,” Pratt explained, leading Danny to the nearest tent and confirming their plans for expansion. “There are more in the men’s barracks on the other side of the lake, and then we have families housed together at the far end.” He pointed to the space at the western edge of the field, and the farthest limits of the encampment. She saw several columns of smoke and could hear the faint sound of children’s laughter.

  Danny shook her head, trying to balance out the comforting scene of safety with what had just happened to them and Tom. “Why steal from us?” she demanded again. Facing the medic, Danny was reminded of the sort of man he was as he looked her over before taking a calculated step closer. Acutely aware of the black uniform she wore, Danny had no delusions about her position there and the power the soldier had over her.

  Pratt grinned. “Because we can.”

  Chapter 14

  CHLOE

  Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

  “Bishop!” The front door hadn’t even finished swinging shut before Chloe ran from the kitchen and threw her arms around the older man. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed him until she saw him standing there.

  Bishop returned the embrace and then stepped back with a surprised look on his face. “I’m okay,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “It was just a precaution. I told Patty to let you know I wasn’t sick.”

  Chloe stepped back and looked down at her feet, embarrassed. With everything that had happened, and after looking up to Bishop like a father figure for nearly two weeks, he’d come to mean a lot to her. Another reason why his actions at the lake had thrown her for such a loop. “She told me,” Chloe answered, offering a small smile. “But… Well, a lot happened while you were gone. I need to talk to you about a couple of things,” she added, leaning in close and dropping her voice to a whisper.

  Bishop frowned and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Yes, I know. I wish I could have gone to the service. And I promise to answer your questions.” He looked over his shoulder. “Later.”

  Patty and Sheriff Waters filed in behind Bishop, with Sandy bringing up the rear. Using her arms, she ushered them all to various couches and chairs in the large family room, like a farmer herding sheep. The tall windows that lined the front of the log house offered plenty of lighting, though the stone fireplace was cold and dark. Chloe found herself longing for the sense of comfort the fire offered, even though it was another hot summer day. Sandy had almost lit it a couple of nights ago though, when the temperature took an unseasonable plummet.

  “Sorry to steamroll you as soon as you step foot in the house,” Patty was saying to Bishop. “But this can’t wait.”

  The edge in Patty’s voice pulled Chloe’s attention from thoughts of the weather and Bishop’s kung fu to the present. She frowned at the mayor. Chloe had spent a couple of afternoons at her place the past week, helping with chores around their property and she’d gotten to know Patty. While always a little understandably high-strung, this was something more.

  “We’re having supply issues with both the water and food much sooner than we thought we would,” Patty explained. She glanced at the sheriff while rubbing her hands together. “While we can obviously pull as much as we need from the river, boiling and hauling enough to keep up with the needs of over six hundred people demands more manpower than we currently have. I’ve had to recruit just about every able-bodied resident to keep the supply train going.”

  “We need that spring functional,” Sheriff Waters said bluntly. “It’s half the distance to town as the river, and without having to boil it, we’ll cut our production time in half.”

  “It’ll still have to be filtered.” Bishop stood and began pacing. “I’ve given that a lot of thought and think I’ve come up with a reasonable solution with the natural supplies we have.”

  “A natural filtration system?” Sandy asked.

  “That’s all it needs,” Patty agreed. “The state analysis showed contaminants well below the acceptable levels. “In fact, it’s cleaner than our reservoir water was after being treated. Just remove the sticks and whatever dirt works its way in, and we’re good.”

  “I don’t care about it being filtered so long as it’s safe to drink,” Sheriff Waters said, his voice strained. “We’ve got over a dozen outlying homes that haven’t had any water delivered going on two days now. They don’t have the means to travel into town and carry it on their own. We’re going to start losing people.”

  Sandy balked. “So get more horses out there moving it around! Take some of mine,” she waved a hand toward her barn. “I have two extra right now you can take back with you.”

  “Do you have riders for those horses?” the sheriff asked. “We’ve got plenty of horses, Sandy. That isn’t the issue.”

  “I’ll go help this afternoon,” Chloe offered. She was chilled by the news. In spite of how challenging things had been, she’d had no idea they were so close to self-imploding. Chloe felt guilt over her afternoon at the spring, and the fact she’d slept in the day before. She should be doing more.

  Patty reached out and took one of Chloe’s hands. “We know you’d help. The reality is that you aren’t able to lift a five-gallon container of river water onto the back of a horse. And that’s if we had enough five-gallon containers to move the amount of water we need daily. We don’t. We’re also short of pots large enough to boil the water fast enough.” She dropped Chloe’s hand and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling more strands from the already messy bun on her head.

  “We’re already working at the maximum limit we’re physically and logistically capable of,” Sheriff Waters said. “It’s simply not enough. It isn’t working so we have to change tactics. We need that spring, Bishop.”

  “Caleb and Chief Martinez were going to go out there and see if they could figure something out while you were gone,” S
andy said, turning to Bishop. “Then we had the cholera scare and all the deaths…and they had other things to deal with.”

  “I went.” Everyone turned to look at Chloe, and she cringed under the attention. “Yesterday. I took Trevor and Crissy out there to get the measurements you said you’d need.” Jumping up, she ran to the kitchen and retrieved her notebook. “Here.” Handing the drawing to Bishop, she pointed at the lines and numbers. “I think you were right. There’s plenty of room to dig this out. We should be able to increase the flow.”

  Smiling, Bishop checked the diagram carefully before looking up at her. “Please tell me there’s a downhill slope?”

  Chloe nodded. “Not much, but probably enough to move it a little ways before it’s collected. I’m guessing that’s where you want to build the filtration system?”

  “Exactly.” Bishop pointed a finger at Patty. “I’m going to need a team of strong diggers, a few horses, and some sort of travois or wagon to move some heavy material around.”

  “Whatever you need,” Patty said eagerly. “Why don’t you make me a list to take back to town? We’ll have everything ready to go in the morning.”

  Bishop turned the page in the notebook and began writing.

  “There’s something else we need to discuss,” Sheriff Waters said.

  Chloe’s smile wavered. She didn’t like the way that sounded. Patty again looked pained, but this time she was staring at Sandy.

  “You need beef,” Sandy offered, before Patty could say anything.

  “The farmers’ market idea you presented is brilliant, and we’ve got a team working on building the stands and getting it set up at the northern end of town,” Patty replied. “Eventually, we’ll enclose it before winter hits so it can go year-round, but yeah. You know even better than I do that we don’t have enough protein.”

  “Still nothing from the hunting teams we sent out?” Sandy asked Sheriff Waters.

  The sheriff shook his head. “Deputy Moore organized three teams of our best hunters, but you know those mule deer head for higher ground this time of year. I’m sure they’ll find them, but it’s going to take some time.”

  “We can only catch so many fish,” Patty added. “We’re trying to smoke a certain percentage of it, to add to our winter stockpile, so that’s cutting into our available supply, too. If it weren’t for our plentitude of eggs, we’d be in much bigger trouble.”

  “I’ve finished inventorying all of the cattle,” Sandy said without preamble. “Well, aside from Mr. Craven. He refuses to take part in anything, including providing any meat for the town. He’s got close to two hundred head, is my best guess.”

  “Include Craven’s as part of the town inventory,” Patty directed.

  “You’re going to just take it?” Chloe interrupted, stunned by the implication.

  “Not unless we absolutely have to,” Sheriff Waters answered, leveling Chloe with his steely gaze. “And this conversation doesn’t go beyond this room. Understand?”

  Chloe swallowed and then looked at Sandy, who pulled a wisp of long dark hair back behind her ear and gave Chloe a barely perceptible nod. “I get it,” Chloe said to the sheriff. “If it comes down to people starving, we won’t really have a choice. I just…worry what the guy might do when you go to take his cattle.”

  “Let me worry about that.” The sheriff turned his focus back to Sandy. “We’re going to need one or two in the next week.”

  “My steers average around four hundred and thirty retail cuts,” Sandy said curtly. “By my estimate, that’ll feed over eight hundred people. So, with one steer, we can provide enough for a good meal for the whole town plus smoke and store another two hundred servings’ worth. I’ll do the math tonight and get you a plan by tomorrow. If we rotate through our farms, I think we can sustain those numbers until we start bringing in some elk and deer.”

  “Tom’s our best rancher,” Patty said, her voice dropping. She clearly hated to bring his name up in front of Sandy. “Can you manage things here without him, Sandy? I don’t mean to be unkind, but your herd is going to be critical for Mercy. You already lost your only regular ranch hand when the flashpoint hit, and I’m sure Tom was counting on using Ethan as another one. Miller Ranch is easily a five-person operation.”

  “We’ll manage,” Sandy said tersely.

  “We’ve been doing okay so far,” Chloe added, feeling defensive of her friend. It was true that there was a lot of work to do on the ranch, and it was especially hard for her and Crissy to keep up with even the simple things while Bishop was gone, but Sandy seemed to be handling the herd.

  “The cattle here on the farm has summer calving,” Patty said, turning to Chloe. “So they’ll be dropping their calves in the next month. We can’t afford to lose any.”

  “Tom will be back soon,” Sandy implored, her voice rising. “He and Ethan are coming home. We’re going to be fine.”

  “And if they don’t?” Sheriff Waters asked the hard question, and Chloe flinched at the change in Sandy’s expression and demeanor.

  Standing, the ranch owner walked pointedly to the front door and opened it. “I’ll have those numbers for you tomorrow, Mayor.”

  Clearly dismissed, Patty and Sheriff Waters stood and awkwardly looked at one another. Chloe remained seated next to Bishop, who handed his list to Patty. Chloe felt strangely at odds with the town’s leaders, and she wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. It was obvious that there was a lot left unspoken.

  “Sandy, please,” Patty offered as the sheriff pulled her toward the door. “We just want to help.”

  “The same sort of help you want to give to Mr. Craven?” Sandy snapped back.

  Shoulders sagging, Patty followed the sheriff outside, leaving the three of them in a deep, empty silence. Chloe looked first at Bishop and then Sandy. She still wanted to get to the bottom of Bishop’s extracurricular talents, but it suddenly didn’t seem as important.

  “They’re coming home,” Chloe offered when Sandy rose and went to stare at the picture of Tom and Ethan.

  “I hope so,” Sandy said, her back heaving as she suppressed a sob. “Because Patty is right. We can’t do this without them.”

  Chapter 15

  ETHAN

  FEMA Shelter M3, Monida, Montana

  Dillinger was a total idiot. As soon as Ethan showed the slightest interest in joining the National Guard, he took him on a grand tour of the shelter and gave him a huge spiel on why it was the right thing for him to do. The corporal seemed to think he’d forget the fact that he’d stolen everything from them, and thrown his dad in jail.

  “He’s just like Decker,” Ethan muttered under his breath, as he finished brushing down Tango. It was almost dinner time, around twenty-four hours since they’d arrived, and no one had even removed their saddles or properly cared for them.

  “What was that?”

  Ethan looked over at the airman who’d been gullible enough to allow him to see the horses. His name was Ben and he was from Arkansas, but had been stationed in Montana at the Air Force base. That was how Ethan found out that the FEMA camps were a mash-up of National Guard, state guard in the states that had them, and the Air Force and Marines. The camp they were in was mainly Army, National Guard, and Air Force, because of the nearest bases.

  One thing Ethan was discovering during his experience since the flashpoint was how stupid most people were. All he had to do was observe, manipulate a little, and bide his time. He’d make Dillinger look like a fool and get his dad out of there, with the horses.

  “I just said that their coats are already getting thicker. It’s strange ’cause that doesn’t usually happen for a few more months.” Ethan paused as he came up with his excuse, realizing that he wasn’t actually lying. Tango’s winter coat was already starting to grow. He frowned, forgetting for a moment he was on a mission.

  “Huh,” Ben huffed, clearly not interested as he went back to pouring lake water into a makeshift wooden trough. “How do you know so much about hor
ses?”

  “My dad runs a cattle ranch.” Ethan studied the airman for a moment, and figured Ben wasn’t more than a few years older than him. They were about the same size, though Ethan was broader. When he’d first walked up to see Ben manhandling the horses, he’d almost blown it and gone off on him. Instead, he bit his tongue and worked on buttering the guy up.

  “Well, thanks for helping me out,” Ben said, giving him a smile. “I got assigned animal duty since I’m the lowest on the totem pole, but I don’t know much. You’d think someone here would, since we’re in Montana. Isn’t this home of the cowboys?”

  Ethan snorted, getting a kick out of Ben’s southern twang. “Yeah. My dad? Now, he’s a cowboy. I don’t know a lot about horses and cattle compared to him.”

  Ben scratched at his head and stood awkwardly holding the empty bucket. “I heard what happened.” The young man looked over his shoulder, back toward the men’s tents to make sure no one else was within earshot. “Just so you know, not everyone agrees with how the corporal has been doing things. It’s been rough, you know? Of course, you know.” Ben stared vacantly out at the small lake. “I haven’t gotten any word about my family. Most of us haven’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan offered, not sure what else to say.

  “They already owned us, but now they really do,” Ben said, lifting the bucket for emphasis. “We don’t have anywhere else to go, and if you’ve seen what it’s like in the cities then you know this shelter is heaven in comparison.”

  “Maybe,” Ethan said, carefully choosing his words. “For those who want or need to be here. Us? We just want to get home, and we’re going to have a hard time doing that without our horses and gear. We weren’t given a choice.”

  “Martial law is in effect,” Ben explained, growing more uncomfortable and shifting from foot to foot. After looking over his shoulder again, he leaned in closer to Ethan. “Word is that tomorrow morning, some bigwig is flying in to check on us. We’re hoping Corporal Dillinger might get set straight on some things. Maybe allow some of the townspeople back into their homes and all.”