The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel

by Melissa Riddell

  The shift changes generally take place at designated entry points, so my group heads to the north barricade. By the time we reach the area, it’s dark.

  Daddy lights a small kerosene lamp, and it hangs from his handlebars, swaying gently and throwing enough golden light to see several feet ahead.

  A few of the nearby houses show faint light through the curtains, but most are locked up and dark. On the porch of one, a candle glows, revealing the silhouette of a person sitting in a rocking chair.

  He stands. “That you, Ricky?” The man’s voice is low and even.

  “Yeah, Stan. About to relieve the day shift. Everything okay over here?” Daddy stops at the edge of the curb, and Max and I do the same.

  “Yup.” Stan shifts a rifle so the end rests over his shoulder and steps off the porch. He’s bathed in the night, and the moonlight is too weak to show any details. “Quiet so far.”

  Daddy and Stan shake hands. “Well, we’re about to start our shift, so if you need anything, you know how to get ahold of us.”

  “Yep. Got my flare yesterday. Y’all take care out there.” He caresses the barrel of the weapon. “I heard about Sutton’s place. Just let those bastards try doing something like that again. The cowards won’t know what hit them.”

  At least people are taking things more seriously now. It can’t hurt to have everyone looking out for one another.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Tilly, where’s your gun?” Daddy asks as he walks the perimeter of our assigned patrol area.

  “In my shoe.” I stop and pat the top of my hiking boot.

  “It should always be within reach. That’s too far away if you need it in a jiffy.” His fingers grasp the six-foot-high chain-link fence, and he gives it a rough shake. Soft, metallic jingles sound in the hushed quiet of night. He kneels and holds his lantern close to the bottom, near the ground, as if searching for something. “If the shit hits the fan, you won’t have time to bend and dig it out of your shoe. Put it in your waistband or a pocket. Make sure the safety’s on.”

  Max snickers.

  I throw him a sour grimace, then shift the gun to my pocket. “Sure hope I don’t blow a hole in my leg.”

  Daddy stands and wipes dirt from his hands. “Everything looks good here.” He holds the lamp higher, then moves to the barricade of cars and dumpsters blocking the road. Only a narrow path lies between the junk, big enough for one person at a time.

  “Have there been many people coming into town?” I wave a hand in front of my face. Faint scents of rotted garbage waft from the dumpsters. Glancing inside, I see they’re filled with scrap metal and useless debris. I guess to make them heavier so they can’t be moved.

  “Not at first, but over the past two or three days, we’ve had five families ask for refuge.” He slides between the darkened metal and disappears for a moment, then pops back into view. “But Callahan’s going to have to be selective if things get worse. All five families came from Abilene and shared the same stories: things are getting ugly. Which means Leonard and his thugs are going to be the least of our worries.”

  Max and I follow while he crosses the road and checks the other side of the barrier, repeating the same motions to ensure it hasn’t been breached.

  “How much fence has been built?” Max asks, mimicking Daddy’s safety check a few feet farther.

  “Not enough.” Daddy’s tone is low, worried. “All the lumber store had, we used. Charles still estimates we’re going to need tons more if we plan on fencing in the entire city, or at least as much as we can.”

  Max’s head jerks to Daddy. “What about the people who live out of town?”

  Daddy steps to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. I was going to talk to you about this tomorrow, but hell—” He sighs and removes his hand, running it through his hair. He passes the lantern to me, pulls out a cigarette, and lights up.

  Max crosses his arms over his chest, his face guarded.

  He’s probably worried for his and Kat’s safety, as he should be. We can’t leave them on the outskirts to fend for themselves.

  “God, that tastes good.” Smoke rushes from Daddy’s mouth. “You and your sister need to move to town. It’s not safe out there in the boondocks, and we don’t have enough men and women to spare for constant patrol so far out.”

  Max shakes his head. “But it’s our place. I’m not going to abandon our home. Can’t the wall be built farther out?”

  “Even if we gathered every bit of material from old houses and businesses, it would still never be enough to reach that far.” He flicks his ashes onto the ground. “It’d be much easier to have you two come to town instead of living out there all alone.”

  “I see your point, but—” Max swipes the bangs from his eyes. “—it feels a lot like abandoning the only place we’ve ever known. What if people break inside and steal everything while we’re gone? Or worse—burn it like they did Sutton’s barn?”

  “Which is exactly why you need to come to town.” Daddy takes a deep drag, the orange glow bright in the near pitch-black night. Soft crackles from the sudden intake of air are the only sound heard for a few seconds. “What if it caught on fire? Or what if they broke in and hurt you—hurt your sister? Men like Leonard and his gang don’t just shoot and steal, they take.” He glances to me, then back to Max. “And when there are females involved, they’re apt to take a lot, if you understand what I’m saying. Do you want to risk something happening to Kat?”

  “Of course not.” Max inhales, then grabs the blue stress ball from his pocket and squeezes, squeezes, squeezes. “I will not let anything happen to her.”

  “Then move to town, at least for a little while, until things settle in Abilene or the power comes back.”

  “It’s not coming back, though, is it?” I ask, switching the lantern to my other hand and stretching my fingers.

  Daddy drops what remains of the cigarette and grinds it under his shoe. He pivots to me, gazes at Max, then to the starry sky above our heads. “No, Half-pint, it’s not, so we need to start thinking about more than our safety—we need to start thinking about long-term survival, too. Which means hard decisions are coming.” He takes the lantern. “Now, you two stay here and keep an eye on the opening. No one gets through until they can prove they’re from this area, and even then, two people escort them to the police station, where they can decide where to put them.”

  “Aren’t y’all gonna build a guard tower or something here?” I kick at the tire of one of the cars.

  “Yep.” He slips through the dumpsters and reappears on the other side of the fence, eyes scanning everywhere at once. “Several teams are starting at each point of entry tomorrow. Then, we won’t have to constantly expose ourselves, and we’ll be able to see people coming well ahead of time. I’ll be back in five minutes—I’m not going far.”

  Now that the light’s gone, only the weak moonglow breaks up the different shades of darkness.

  “Tilly.” Max moves closer to me, his brown hair a hanging silhouette across one eye. “I don’t want to move into town. I know our place isn’t much to look at, but it’s our home.”

  This close, his masculine scent teases my nose—the warm combination of cologne and spice—which is hard to define, like Max.

  “I know.” I give his shoulder a quick squeeze. “But I—we—want you to stay safe, too.” His flesh is warm under my fingers, his deltoid firm. Realizing I’m still hanging onto his arm, I jerk my hand away.

  He dips his head and catches my wrist before I can settle it to my hip. Wrapping his fingers around the joint, he tugs me closer.

  My heartbeat goes from a steady jot to an alarming sprint. “We’re, uh, supposed to be keeping watch.”

  “So we are.” His body shifts closer, the material of his shirt rubbing against my chest.

  I swallow, unable to look away. His face is mostly shadows, but enough light streams from the moon and stars to show his eyelids lowering, his stare on my mouth.
What would it feel like to have my first kiss? I always thought a mysterious spark or butterflies would careen through my blood or in my stomach when I found a guy I didn’t totally hate. I can’t define what I feel for Max, though. Curiosity and affection, for sure, but is it love—like real love, where it feels like I’ll die if I can’t touch him? I’ve seen true love—I see it every day with Mamma and Daddy.

  “Lookout,” he whispers, sliding his fingers on either side of my neck and curling them around the nape. “I think I—”

  A shrill whistle pierces the night, and I startle.

  Max jumps, too, then pulls out his gun, pointing its end in the general direction of the whistle, which seems to have come from behind us, toward the city.

  “Hold up, don’t shoot.” A male form ambles from the darkness. “It’s just me, Hank. Sorry. I’m running a few minutes late. It took forever to get my kids settled for bed.”

  “You scared the crap out of us.” Max thumbs the safety back on and stuffs his gun into the waist of his jeans at the small of his back.

  Our eyes meet for a brief second. What was he about to say before Hank rudely interrupted?

  “Sorry.” Hank glances toward the narrow opening. “Everything quiet tonight?”

  “Yeah.” I stuff my weapon out of sight. “Daddy’s on the other side. Said he’d be back in a bit.”

  “He’s probably checking the alarms.”

  “Alarms? But we don’t have electricity.” I peer into the darkness, wondering what kind of alarms could possibly work out there.

  “Don’t need power to string up old-fashioned bells.” Hank jumps onto the hood of a car, then climbs onto the roof, craning his neck to peer over the fence. “We staked lines of empty cans, bells, whatever we could find, at ankle level. They’re hidden in the brush, so unless someone knows where they’re at, they won’t see them in the dark before they trip if they leave the road and try to sneak in during the night.”

  Standing beside him, I stare out. All the grassy scrub, along with short cactus plants and scraggly bushes, shines silver in the scant moonlight. Every so often, a dark rock breaks up the flat land, with a few clusters of mesquite trees like a group of whispering onlookers in random areas. I try to spot the shiny metal of cans or bells on the ground, but nothing shows through the dry grass and weeds.

  Daddy appears out of the darkness, sliding back between the smelly dumpsters. “Hank? You finally made it?”

  “Yeah, sorry for being late.” He hops off the car. “The kids were being monsters for me and Carol.”

  “No worries. I thought we’d take these two—” His thumb gestures toward Max and me. “—under our wings and teach them the whistles and patrol area.”

  I bend to jump from the car, but Max slides in front of me, his head at the height of my waist.

  Glancing up at me, he places his hands on my hipbones and smiles. “Want some help?”

  My eyes shoot to where Daddy stands, his back to us. I shrug, trying to play it cool.

  “Grab my shoulders then, Lookout.” Max jerks his chin up to me.

  I do, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, then sets me on the road. I stare up at his face. It’s hard to read in the darkness, but a sliver of white teeth appears between his lips in a small grin.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Daddy growls, setting a hand on Max’s shoulder.

  I jerk away and try not to piss my pants.

  Max twists toward my dad. “Tilly needed help getting down.”

  Eyebrows raised in a Oh really? gesture, Daddy scowls. “You’re going with Hank.” He stabs a finger in Hank’s direction. “And Tilly, you’re coming with me. This is serious business, and if you two can’t keep your hands off each other and pay attention to what’s going on around you, then you’re off the patrol.” His gaze bounces from me, to Max, then back to me.

  I drop my stare and kick at a pebble under my shoe.

  “Is that clear?”

  “Yessir.” Max’s assent is quick, too quick. I think he’s still scared shitless when it comes to my dad, which is funny yet exasperating.

  “Tilly?”

  “Okay.” I hate being talked to like a kid, but Daddy’s right. I need to keep my head clear. What if Max and I’d been out here alone and someone had come walking up? Some guards we’re turning out to be. “Sorry.”

  “Hank, why don’t you take Max outside and point out the line, so he doesn’t trip on it? Don’t stray too far from the entrance. I don’t want someone sneaking in. Tilly and I are going to inspect this section from the inside and make sure the fence is still in good shape. If you see anything, give a whistle.”

  “Will do,” Hank calls out, heading outside the barrier with Max trailing behind.

  “Alright, Half-pint. Let’s go have a looksee, make sure everything’s safe and secure.”

  I follow in his footsteps, the half-dead vegetation crunching under my feet. In the distance, way past the scrubby grass and fields, a pack of coyotes call to one another, their yips and howls soothing, yet a reminder there are other things out in the dark besides scumbag people.

  A few houses sit on the block, but most look empty. One or two show faint candle glow behind the curtains, but it feels late, probably around ten or eleven, so I’m guessing they’re up reading or talking.

  “Do you like that boy?” Gruff and low, Daddy’s voice carries slight disapproval, yet a hint of curiosity.

  “What?” Heat blooms on my cheeks, and I’m relieved the dark night hides the sudden rush of blood.

  Daddy keeps walking, trailing a hand over a section of fence every now and again. “Do you like him?” He breathes deeply, then slowly exhales. “It’s okay if you do. I know you’re an adult now, and I need to start treating you like one, but you’ll always be my little girl. I want what’s best for you.”

  “He’s okay.” I scan the lumpy shapes of foliage through the hollow diamonds of the fence.

  Turning, Daddy holds out a hand. “I’m only going to say this once, and then I promise I’ll try to stop being an overbearing father.” He twists his neck and glances in the distance, as if following my gaze. “Max is a good kid, Tilly, but—” His gaze meets mine. “—don’t get mad at me, but I still don’t think he’s strong enough for you.”

  “What the hell does that even mean, anyway?” I clench my fists and purse my lips, the anger squashing my earlier embarrassment like a glass jar over a candle’s flame.

  “Don’t get pissy.” A low chuckle sneaks out, and he lays a hand on my shoulder, which I shrug away. “Like I said before, what I mean is I don’t know if Max is your equal.” He runs a hand through his pale hair, the light of the moon making some of the blond strands sparkle like silver. “You have a hell of a temper sometimes, and I think he’d run away at the first sign of trouble.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I do not have a temper. You make me sound wild, like a crazy animal.” Giving the ground a good stomp, I shake my head and glare. “I can hold my temper when I want to.”

  “Oh, really?” Daddy’s tone is mild, as if he’s intentionally holding back. “Remember when you got mad at Sissy and ripped out a handful of hair?”

  “She wrapped up dead spiders as a present and gave them to me for Christmas. She deserved what she got.” It was terrifying. She’d laughed so hard she’d bent over trying to catch her breath. I’d thrown the entire box her way, then tackled her to the ground and let her have it. Mamma and Daddy grounded me for six weeks, but they also punished her, too.

  Not my fault.

  “I also remember being called to the principal’s office on three separate occasions in one month because you bloodied one boy’s nose when he tried to kiss you, you tripped a girl who called you a name, and shouted at a teacher when they flunked your paper.”

  Brushing past him, I stalk ahead and absorb myself with scouting the entire area. “Well, I told that jackass his breath stunk, and he still tried to kiss me. The principal’s office incident was because a g
irl was being a bitch, and the teacher failed me because I told him he was better suited being a prison guard than an educator.”

  “Lord, help me.” He snickers. “You’re a damn mess, but I love you.” Walking to my side, he snakes an arm around and hugs me to his chest.

  I don’t hug him back. “You make me sound like a bad person,” I mumble, still rigid.

  “No.” He pushes me to arm’s length. “Not at all. What I’m trying to say is you might be little, but you’re mighty, and someone like Max…” He glances to the stars. “Someone like Max doesn’t have the backbone to tell you what you need to hear.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry. Max is just a friend.” I think. Though, I do wonder what he was about to say earlier, and if he wanted to kiss me, because I sort of wanted to kiss him, too.

  “Okay. I’m not going to bring it up again but try to remember our priority right now is surviving. Put those hormones on hold. Romance needs to take a backseat until things get better.”

  Stalking through a ditch, I brush away several cockleburs from my cargo pants. “Are things going to get better?”

  “If everyone keeps working together, then yes, I think so. But there are always bad apples out there.”

  “Yeah, like Leonard and his—”

  An ear-splitting whistle interrupts my sentence. Two more short bursts follow the first long call.

  “Fuck. That’s the code for trouble. Quick, get your gun and stay behind me.” He sprints in the direction of the gate.

  Jogging behind, I tug the .9mm from my pants but keep the safety on. Fear turns the juices in my stomach to pure acid, which slosh like water in a washing machine.

  “Do you think—”

  Bam! The unmistakable crack of a gunshot vibrates through the air, spurring Daddy and me to run faster. Images of Max and Hank lying on the ground, their bodies covered in blood, flash in my mind’s eye.

  Hold on, Max, we’re coming.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It’s worse than I imagined. A strangled cry wrenches from my throat.