Date: 2016-03-03 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Apocalyptic; Fiction; Post Apocalyptic; Zombies; Action
Description: When World War 3 erupts on American soil it is up to some less than likely heroes to band together and stand tall against any and all comers as a once proud nation is brought to her knees. Cowardly terrorist attacks and indifferent Global communities have isolated America as she spirals into a desperate bid for survival. Follow Darlene Bobich, and her group on the west coast along with Michael Talbot on the east coast as they do everything in their power to thwart those that would take everything that they and all of us are, away.

United States Of Apocalypse

Mark Tufo

Armand Rosamilia

DevilDog Press

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

About Mark

About Armand

Also by Mark Tufo

Also By Armand Rosamilia

Also From DevilDog Press

Thank You

Copyright © 2016 by Mark Tufo/Armand Rosamilia

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

I wish you would still, always be here. Rest in peace dad.

-Mark

Dedicated to Shelly, always my inspiration

-Armand

Prologue

This is how the end started. Some will argue it began when Nixon annihilated the gold standard. Others will say that it was the growing trade deficit, or when we flooded the Chinese with the dollar; an easy scapegoat was our dependence on foreign oil. Some may even point to the destruction of the Twin Towers. Certainly, all of those events widened the cracks that began to appear as far back as the Race Riots of the sixties. But the United States could have perhaps limped on another fifty years, maybe even another century, if not for a conflagration of organized events that sought her demise. What those conspirators did not expect was that her fall would set into motion a much larger chain of events, which would ultimately bring the entire world to its knees.

The enemy that finally severed the artery had been completely unexpected, as was the international response. America had, for the last seventy years, actively developed a love—hate relationship with much of the world. She was generous to a fault, she was quick to fight, and just as quick to defend her allies. She was brutally effective at both. The world looked to America for her riches, her fashion, her artists and inventors. Some looked with a jealous eye, others with disdain for her excesses. When the more public attacks first began, much of the world watched in fascinated horror, happy that in some way the mighty had fallen.

Such is human nature; to watch those topple that are different, whether ideologically, politically, or religiously. It was an “I told you so,” of cultures. Old enemies publicly condemned the events while secretly welcoming them, even moving them along, in some cases. At last, the world’s public opinion turned, thanks to sympathetic media and independent broadcasters. Governments of the world were finally swayed and forced to lend active aid and assistance.

But their response was too slow, too costly, too philosophical. It was met with swift and atrocious retribution from the aggressors, and the aid diminished. In the end, the United States of America died much like she had lived. Alone in a world that was not quite ready to adopt the directions she sought. This is the story of a group of survivors during those initial dark days as they struggled to adjust to the new order of things. The war for global domination had been reduced to a struggle just to find enough food for the day, a safe place to stay, a warm place to sleep. While foreign countries fought for a redistribution of wealth in the trillions, many in the States would die for a bottle of water. The Federal Government, realizing it could not possibly handle a crisis of the magnitude presented to it, had completely reduced its scope of operation. Much like a hypothermia victim, she had pulled back into her shell, to the point of letting her extremities wither and die while she worked valiantly to keep the heart pumping. In the end? Well, it was all for nothing….

Chapter One

Day 1 - Wyoming - July 2nd - 4:32 a.m.

Brent woke up, dragged his hand through his thinning hair, stood, popped his back, and gave his balls an extra-heavy dose of scratching before heading to the shower.

“Last damn day,” he said as he stuck his hand under the tap, waiting for the water to turn from streaming icicles to something resembling heat. Brent loved his job as a park ranger, the vast majority of it stationed in Wyoming, across the beautiful Yellowstone. It was just that he loved the thought of fishing full time off the coast of Mexico more. By the time he stepped out, taking all the frigid water torture he could handle, his wife, MaryBeth, had entered.

“Did you warm it up for me?” she asked after giving him a small kiss.

“Yeah, sure, I think the ice has stopped flowing.”

“Remind me again why we haven’t got that thing fixed?”

“Because by this time next week, we’ll be sunning on a beach in Acapulco, baby, sipping those fruity umbrella drinks.”

“Right.” She winced as she popped her big toe into the shower to check the temperature.

Even at fifty-five, MaryBeth had kept her figure, and at that moment, it became evident just how much Brent appreciated that.

“Put that thing away; you’re going to poke your eye out.” She laughed. “If you get home at a reasonable time tonight and remember to bring home a good movie to watch, I just might take care of it.”

“Sounds like a deal.” He gave her another kiss. After drying off, he walked into the bedroom to dress. His quarters were in the national park. He’d had the option of receiving a stipend and staying in town, renting a place with adequate heat and amenities, but the raw beauty of the park had won out. In addition, there were far fewer people out here than in town. He figured he spent enough time with people during the day that he should at least have nights off. MaryBeth would grumble sometimes about their isolation. On those occasions, he would take her to see a movie or dinner, sometimes both, if they could pull off the timing.

He yelled a goodbye and hopped into his vehicle to begin the day. He had a few minutes until he got to the visitor center, and that gave his mind plenty of time to wander and think about his earlier encounter with his wife’s naked body. He’d drifted so far in his thoughts he’d barely had enough time to slam on his brakes. His drab brown park Jeep swerved to a halt, narrowly missing an elk that paid no heed to the painful death it had narrowly avoided. Something else had it spooked; it looked over its shoulder repeatedly, its eyes wide and its tongue lolling as if it had been running for some time.

Bear? Mountain lion, maybe? Brent thought, though generally they would not come after an adult and surely not one as big as this particular beast. Maybe it’s a yeti. Brent smiled. There had been eight sightings since his tenure here had started. Three were by the same person, Jed “Wizzy” Gerber, the local drunk and Bigfoot expert. He’d even tried to start up a tour business for visitors looking for the infamous beast, and he might have been able to make it a success if he’d had the wherewithal to stay away from the bottom of the bottle—any bottle. Apparently, he had a huge fixation with sugary drinks as well, and those made him nearly as incoherent as the liquor.

Brent watched as the elk disappeared into the woods on the far side. He was about to chalk it up to just “one of those things” and go check in at the visitor center when he heard the far-off drone of an engine.

“What the hell?” he asked, stepping out of his Jeep. The park was open to visitors 24/7, though it was rare anyone would be here this early and certainly no one from his crew would be this far out in the morning. The murky dawn was just beginning to yield its fog to morning, when he spotted something in the distance.

“ATVs? Off trail? Stupid kids.” There were signs posted all over the park asking visitors, warning them, even, to respect the natural beauty of the area. This was about the only part of the job that really got his goat. He considered some tourists to be amongst the most vulgar of the animal kingdom. The vast majority came, spent their hard-earned dollars, took a thousand and one photos, and left with nary an issue. Still, there were always those malcontents that treated this place—or any place they visited, really—as their own personal shit can. They appeared through the trees. There were three of them, and one was towing something. Brent was going to have their asses in jail before the main gates were unlocked. It hadn’t occurred to him to grab his service revolver, which he’d left on the passenger seat when he’d walked to the side of the road.

He assumed they’d veer off once they saw him. He got a shiver up his spine when he realized they were coming right for him, but quickly dismissed it. Stupid kids probably don’t even think they’re doing anything wrong. “Get your asses over here!” he yelled, waving his arm.

He watched as the rider in the lead looked over his right shoulder to the one towing the long sled. There was a knowing nod between them. Again, a finger of ice ran up Brent’s spine.

“Those aren’t kids,” he said aloud. He absently put his hand to his empty holster. “Last damn day.” He had no idea just how prophetic his words were.

The lead ATV came onto the road some twenty feet away then stopped. The towing man and the third rider crossed the street and just kept going.

“Hey wait!” Brent called after them. When he turned back to the stopped driver, it was already too late. The barrel looked like a cannon from his angle. The first round punched into his stomach. The heat blistered through his belly and settled at the base of his spine, snapping it in two. He fell to the ground, not even able to clutch the agonizing wound. He thought the man was speaking Chinese as he walked up, but then his world slammed into black as a very American-looking Colt 1911 shattered his skull and scrambled his brain.

Chapter Two

Day 1 I-70

The phone vibrated on the seat of the pickup truck next to her but Darlene ignored it. Whenever the phone rang lately it was only bad news, and she’d finally been in a good place the last few days. She didn’t need drama or people bringing her down.

Darlene turned up the radio and sang along to bad songs until the distance made the signal drop and she searched for another station to sing along to. Her voice was hoarse after the last ten hours of driving, but she wanted to get far away from Maine without thinking too long about what had happened back there. She didn’t know if she’d ever return to the place of her birth and everyone she’d known, like her father...

She wiped the thought of the funeral and the crying and all the pain from her mind and turned up the radio, even though it was a horrible song. Right now it didn’t matter. If she was singing, she wasn’t thinking, and it was all she wanted to do.

The right tires kicked up gravel and she realized she was nodding off at the wheel.

Better get someplace safe before I kill myself or someone else, Darlene thought. She’d been driving through California for over an hour without seeing much more than sand and stunted trees. She’d traversed the country over the last few weeks, stopping for a few hours here and there—eating pizza in New York and Chicago, seeing landmarks in Cleveland and Minneapolis, and discovering what Montana and Idaho had to offer, which wasn’t much.

Her final destination wasn’t going to be California. Darlene didn’t really know where she would go once she hit the West Coast and the Pacific Ocean. She guessed she’d end up north of San Francisco and have to find a main road. From San Fran? Maybe head north and see what the fuss was for Seattle, or maybe Portland. Perhaps she’d keep driving and get lost in Alaska, although she’d already spent twenty-eight years in the snow, living in Maine.

Darlene had never been to Mexico, either. Maybe a trip out of the U.S. would do wonders for her delicate psyche. She just wanted out right now. Some fun drinking tequila and getting a tan on the beach would be nice. Lord knew she was too pale. Living in Maine will do that to you.

Her phone buzzed again and she looked at who was calling. It was her Aunt Mary, her mom’s sister on the Talbot side. Since her mom’s death a few years ago, Darlene barely talked to anyone in on that side of the family. She had cousins she hadn’t seen since she was little, and only Aunt Mary had been to her dad’s funeral.

What did she want? Darlene hovered her thumb over the answer button, keeping one eye on the road, as the phone buzzed again. Her aunt had told her to keep in touch and mentioned how she needed to head down to Boston for a few days and spend some time with the other half of the family. Her words had inadvertently gotten Darlene thinking about getting away instead of sitting in the empty home she’d shared with her dad.

And the life insurance policy had been cashed rather quickly, the house and car and everything else turned over to her within a few days. She felt guilty doing it but her dad had made her swear she would so the house would get paid off and she could stop stressing about bills and money.

Darlene worked at the makeup counter at the mall, and she’d never be rich because of it, but it had been near home and her dad, whom she’d been very close to.

My best friend is gone, she thought. Growing up, when someone said one of their parents was their best friend, she would make fun of them. It made no sense. As she’d gotten into her twenties and saw her friends getting married and having kids and their priorities changing, she understood it better. After a string of bad boyfriends and breakups, she really got it.

Dad had been everything to her. She felt lost. She knew this trip was ridiculous and the miles wouldn’t help, but sitting in the living room staring at his now-empty recliner would have made her insane. What good could come of it? She wasn’t much of a drinker, so she couldn’t go that cliché route. She had nothing keeping her in Maine except his grave and a dead end job she really didn’t need anymore. Her dad wasn’t rich but his retirement from the gun and shoe plants had set them up comfortably, and the life insurance meant if she played her cards right, she could coast for the next ten to fifteen years without a worry. It wasn’t like she had any vices, anyway. Darlene didn’t really drink, she didn’t smoke, and had never done drugs. Even coffee and caffeine weren’t a big deal to her.

Shooting was her only vice, if you could call it that.

The Desert Eagle was strapped under her seat. She carried it everywhere. She had a permit for it but knew she was playing a dangerous game going state to state with the weapon. The last thing she needed was a cop to pull her over and ask too many questions. Everything was legal, but if they took it, she’d feel lost.

Her dad had actually made the gun on the assembly line when MRI had the plant in Saco, Maine. He’d given it to her for her eighteenth birthday after hiding it from her for years, a relic of the work he’d done. By then he was working at the Dexter footwear plant, which wasn’t as exciting to him. Darlene’s mom had disapproved at first but once she saw the bonding between them when the pair went out to the shooting range, and how cautious and respectful Darlene was of the weapon, she’d lightened up.

Two months before her death, her mom had even accompanied them to the range to witness the skill her daughter had with the weapon.

Not that Darlene had any illusions of being a cop or using the Desert Eagle for anything more than having some fun and blowing off some steam. And, it was good fun because her dad had been a hunter in his younger years. Darlene knew it made him proud to see how well she took to shooting the Desert Eagle, and her keen accuracy.

Darlene wasn’t interested in firing other weapons. She’d shot some of the many guns he owned, but the Desert Eagle felt right in her hands. It was her gun.

Over the last ten years, whenever she had a bad or boring first date, or the rare second date, which never work out, she would always hit the shooting range on her next day off. And since she was always having those kinds of dates, she got to be pretty good with the Desert Eagle.

Someday the man of your dreams will walk into your life and sweep you off your feet, she thought. But not likely.

Darlene glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and sighed. She looked horrible. Her hair was a mess, she hadn’t put on makeup in a couple of days, and her t-shirt was too tight and uncomfortable. The shirt had fit her a couple of months ago but her sweet tooth had seen to stretching it to the point of bursting the fabric. She knew she was plain looking and overweight, but most times it didn’t bother her. Guys who were initially interested saw her pictures online. They’d check out her Facebook profile and see her standard three pictures on the dating sites, which were all recent and candid. It wasn’t like they didn’t know she was a chunky blonde.

In fact, her problem with quite a few guys was that she wasn’t big enough. One guy had gone so far, on the second date, to ask if she loved buffets, commenting that he’d like to put a little more meat on her bones, then she’d be perfect. He was a Chubby Chaser, which she thought was a horrible term. She was right in the middle for guys who wanted less meat on a woman and those who wanted more. Darlene could never seem to win.

“Keep eating like a pig and those Chubby Chaser guys will be circling,” she said to her reflection. Her eyes were getting tired and she needed to stop for gas at some point, even though she was enjoying the open road and the bad music.

And her stomach was growling, betraying her. All that inner nagging about getting fatter and not being attractive, and now she was hungry? Darlene couldn’t win. And a bag of M&M’s and a bottle of Coke sounded like the perfect meal right now.

So much for getting rid of these love handles, she thought.

Darlene picked up her phone to turn on the GPS and find the nearest gas station, but there was no signal. She was in the middle of nowhere, with sand and mountains on either side. She smiled. At least with the signal gone she wouldn’t have to ignore the phone vibrating.

She decided she’d drive as far west as she could until she saw a place to stop or she ran out of gas. What did she care right now? Maybe her destiny was to die in the foothills of California.

Darlene imagined herself wandering the desert, sucking on cacti leaves and hunting scorpions and whatever else lived out there.

She knew she’d last two days, three tops. She might be from the cold, remote Maine, but she was still a city girl. She still needed clean clothes and hot food. She needed a shower and some perfume every day, and she didn’t think she’d last long without music, even bad tunes like what was on the radio now, fading in and out as she drove.

Her head dipped forward again, startling her. She pulled off to the side of the road and turned the engine off. Darlene got out and stretched. Standing outside the car, the sun was fierce. She’d be fried in ten minutes; the sweat was already rolling off her.

My luck, Mister Right will come driving up, see the chubby sweat-ball that I am, filthy and without any makeup on, and keep on driving, she thought.

Darlene slapped her face a few times and climbed back in her vehicle. She started driving again, picking up speed. If there was a cop out here, at least she could ask for directions to the nearest gas station before he gave her a speeding ticket.

Three miles later, going ninety miles an hour, she finally found a radio station that came in semi-clear. But instead of music, it was talk radio, which she hated. Her dad would listen to his political programs in the morning before work, and she couldn’t stand them. So boring. It was one thing if he was listening to a local sports station; she could get the latest scoop on the Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, or Bruins, but two idiots droning on and on about the state of the economy and how awful the president was didn’t interest her.

She kept trying to find another station, but the next one she found was also a lot of talking.

Right about now, even a Christian music station would suffice. Just give me something with a beat, Darlene thought.

She was just about to continue her search when she heard the words “nuclear assault.” Was this a couple of alarmist jerks? Had she found a pirate radio station, with nutjobs talking about World War III and aliens abducting the locals?

Maybe they could entertain her for the next few miles.

“It has been confirmed. Yellowstone National Park seems to be the epicenter of the nuclear detonation,” one of the excited men on the radio said.

“This is over the top, guys,” Darlene said. She turned off the radio. She could see a small town in the distance as she crested a hill, plunging down into the valley below and hoping she had enough gas to get there.

Chapter Three

Day 1 - NYC - 8:00 am

“Stop running, Talbot!” It was a relatively comfortable seventy-two degrees out, which was a blessing in this blistering summer in the city. Unfortunately, it was only eight in the morning, and the weathermen were calling for mid-nineties by noon. Corporal Lawrence “BT” Tynes of the New York City Police Department was sweating profusely through his uniform. “I just had this cleaned,” he hissed under his breath. When I catch the little turd, I’m taking out my dry-cleaning payment with my nightstick, he thought. Provided no one is filming. Fuck it...even if they are. He grinned.

It was at this moment that Michael Talbot turned to gauge his pursuer, the near-maniacal look of the cop spurring him on. “No way, man. Have you ever seen the size of you? Plus, you got some googly-eyed thing going on.”

“I know where you live, prick. You don’t stop now, I’m going to burn it down.”

“That doesn’t seem very professional.” Mike considered himself in good shape. He had to be to run from the trouble he regularly generated. His crime was petty, but he always made it worse by running, and he’d yet to meet a cop that liked to run. He just couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t shake this one. The man was almost twice his size but moved with an ease and grace that belied his mass.

He ran down an alleyway, fearful that at the end would be a brick wall—and the cop’s fists. The official report would say the perp had slipped and fallen, but his face would look like a truck had run over it.

“Oh, thank God,” Mike breathed out harshly. A ten-foot chain-link fence capped the small alley. Mike timed his steps so that when he launched he would be nearly three quarters up.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Tynes yelled.

Yeah, okay, Mike thought. Just when I’m about to get away, I’m going to stop. Doubtful, asshole.

His sneaker-clad foot missed threading the needle in the links. He slipped a foot down before his hands grasped tight and he pulled his legs up. Mike sprang from his spot, throwing his whole body up, his right underarm just above the pointed barbs atop the fence. In one deft move, like a gymnast on the parallel bar, he hung in a brief handstand before his momentum took him to the other side. The cop’s baton struck the top of the fence with enough force to crack the heavy bat in two. Mike dropped down and turned to look at the cop. A mask of fury was on the man’s face. His hand was on his holster.

“Halt,” Tynes said as he pulled his revolver free, dropping the now useless baton.

Mike laughed, though inside he felt his guts twist into knots. He put his hands up halfway and grinned nervously at the cop. “You going to shoot me for running numbers? Seems like a lot of paperwork for such a small offense.”

“Bookmaking, resisting arrest. I’m sure by the time I think of all the charges, it’ll be worth it. Plus, between the dry cleaning and the busted stick, I’m out almost seventy-five bucks.”

“I’ve got twenty-two on me. How about I give that to you and we call it even?”

Tynes bowed his head. “When am I going to be able to stop chasing you, Mike? You’ve been in New York what, two, maybe three years? I’ve seen you more than my wife in that time.”

“Hey man, that’s not my fault.”

“Of course it’s your fault. When are you going to meet a nice woman, settle down, have some kids?”

“A family man? Me? Are you kidding me? I’m a free spirit. I couldn’t get tied down like that. And kids? They’re just needy little germ factories. You’re freaking me out just talking about it.” As Mike was talking, he kept glancing around and backing slowly away from the angry uniformed cop..

“Mike, I can’t just let you go.”

“I’m not sure you have much choice, big man.”

“Why do you always run?”

“Are you kidding me? Have you ever taken notice of the size of you? You’re like a fucking Godzilla running through Tokyo. Well, I guess since it’s New York, you’re more like King Kong.”

“Was that a racist remark? Was that because I’m black?”

Mike got a perplexed look on his face. “Huh? Racist? No, man, it’s because you’re a fucking giant. Listen, I’d love to stick around, and we could work through some of your marital problems, but I have to get the hell out of here; you guys never seem to work alone.”

“You’re forcing my hand, Mike.”

Mike turned and started to run. He’d made it five feet when the projectile lodged into his hip. His entire body went as rigid as a board. If not for the immense pain he was in, he would have been happy that when his thigh caught the edge of a dumpster it spun him so that he landed on his side instead of his face.

“Fu … fu … fu … fu.” He could not finish the expletive as his body convulsed in spasms. He was afraid of snapping his spine from the rigidity.

“I warned you.” The cop had scaled the fence and was bending over, looking at him and mercifully pulling the electrically charged leads from his body.

“No … no … not cool,” Mike finally sputtered out.

“Hurts like the dickens, doesn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t know personally. I was never one of those stupid sons of bitches who volunteer to be stunned. Who does that crap? I’ve seen enough people do headers from it to know I have no desire to experience it firsthand.”

“To … to … too bad.” Mike still felt like every muscle in his body was in a constant spasm, and the pain was not subsiding—at least not fast enough to his liking.

Chapter Four

Day 1 - Wyoming - 5:14 am

Randall Chan did not bother to drag the body off the roadway. The police would be here soon enough to investigate, but in less than three hours, there would be nothing left. No body, no vehicle, no spent shell casings, and certainly not him. He and his crew would be traveling as far west as they could before the devastation was wrought. He wasn’t sure if they’d make it, but that was secondary to the success of his mission. For three years, he had lived among the Americans, pretending to embrace everything the corrupt and greedy country stood for.

Like anywhere in the world, there were good people here, and a great many of them would die, and soon. But he felt it was for the greater good. If the giant, cancerous country could be brought to heel, the rest of the world might be saved from its particular brand of justice. He had firsthand knowledge of the brutality the Americans could inflict upon their enemies. He had lost his father when a platoon of Army soldiers had raided his village early one fall morning. After determining he was the leader of the small village, they had dragged him outside their hut, stripped him naked, and publicly shamed him before the lieutenant who led the men put a bullet in his brain. They’d accused his father of aiding and abetting a known North Korean spy; that it was true mattered little. The point was he’d been accused, tried, found guilty, and sentenced all in a matter of minutes.

Randall understood his father had been guilty of a crime and needed to pay. That they also beat his mother to the point she could no longer function on her own was entirely another affair. She was innocent; she’d not known what her husband had done and was merely guilty by association. She’d gone from a caring, loving mother, to someone who had frequent outbursts about the spiders that crawled beneath her skin. Oftentimes, she would rip through her flesh with her fingernails until she bled profusely from the self-inflicted wounds.

Randall was a few years older when he’d ended her suffering. He’d come home from selling some pieces of fruit he’d found, to find his sister hiding. Their mother had beaten the small girl, breaking her arm and giving her a concussion. Randall saw his mother lying on her bed. She was chewing on some poppy when Randall thrust a pillow onto her face. That she did not resist proved to Randall that her life meant nothing to her; she knew what she’d done had been irrevocably bad.

Chapter Five

Day One I-70

There was a working gas station but not much else. Not even a street light, just two sides of the road and a few stores. To Darlene, it felt like she’d walked onto the set of a Western, and she expected to see the fronts of the buildings hiding faux rooms within.

She got out of the car, and an old man wearing a baseball cap and sporting a long, graying beard greeted her. Darlene wanted to say “Howdy, Sheriff,” but decided against it. No use in pissing off the locals, even if she was only passing through, and he might be the only one living in this oasis.

“Morning, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “Need some gas?”

“Yes, sir.” Darlene looked past him to the small gas station building. “Any chance you have snacks and a bathroom?”

“We got both, but they’re not in the same room.” He grinned. “You understand.”

Darlene laughed. “I think I need to take care of food and a bathroom break first, then work on filling the car up.”

“I can do it while you’re busy.”

Darlene shook her head. She didn’t know if he was just being polite or creepy, and she didn’t want to find out. “I’m in no rush.”

“You might not be in a rush to drive away, but the way you’re doing the Pee Pee Dance, I’d say you’re in a rush to do something. Key is on the counter.”

Darlene blushed. “Thanks.” She found the key and went into the bathroom, glad she’d found the gas station before she’d pissed her pants.

She went to the sink to wash her hands and throw some water on her face; she was appalled at the reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t slept in days—and then no longer than a few hours at a time—and she looked it.

She needed to change her clothes, too. There was only so much perfume a girl could spray to mask the smell. Her thong had been riding up her ass for miles, and she was sure she was chafed.

What are you doing to yourself? she asked her reflection. She was running away not only from her dad’s death and chilly Maine, but also from her basic needs and responsibilities. She needed a real meal. Candy bars and soda weren’t going to be enough.

She made a promise to her twin in the mirror that she’d find a normal restaurant, not fast food, and have some decent food, then find a motel to sleep for a dozen hours or more, shower with real soap, and relax. Maybe find one with a pool and buy a good book to read. Really, what was the rush? She had quite few things on her list, but a snack and a full tank of gas were first.

When she went back into the gas station, the man was behind the counter, his feet propped up with a People Magazine in his lap.

“Thanks,” Darlene said, dropping the key on the counter. She grabbed three candy bars and a cold Coke.

“I didn’t pump your gas, ma’am,” the guy said as he flicked through his magazine. Either he was a speed-reader or he was just looking at the pictures.

“Where am I?” Darlene asked, putting her food and drink down on the counter. She looked around for something to read besides magazines.

“You’re a few miles from Chico, California,” he said with a smile. “Smack in the direct middle of nowhere. This here one-stop is our own little secret. Off the main highways, far enough away so the rest of the world doesn’t know we exist. Population of one hundred twenty.”

“What’s the name of this quaint little town?”

He shook his head. “Only the locals know the real name. I’m a fourth-generation member of the community. Settlers heading out west in the beginning of the country, on their way to gold in San Francisco, got tired of traveling. A caravan settled in this area and never looked back.”

“Very nice. Any chance you have a restaurant or a hotel in town?” Darlene asked.

She could try to keep driving but her body was exhausted. Maybe a quiet little spot like this would be the perfect place to hide, too.

“By restaurant, do you mean a place to buy a sit-down meal?”

“Yes,” Darlene said, unsure if he’d ever heard of a restaurant, much less knew of one.

“And by hotel you mean pay for a room to sleep in?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s generally what it means.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not really. Me and the missus have an extra room. Hasn’t been used in a couple months, but my wife could air it out for you. Put down some fresh linens. She’s making pot roast for dinner and invited a few folks over. I’m sure we have room for one more chair.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Darlene said. “How far did you say Chico was?”

He looked disappointed. “Not too far at all. I don’t mean to be pushy, ma’am. We just don’t get many strangers coming through, and our goal is for them not to leave as a stranger. I don’t mean that in a creepy way, either.” He smiled. “And you’re not the only newcomer in town this week. A couple stopped and had dinner with us a few days ago. They went out to San Francisco, got bored, and came back. They were looking for a quiet place to relax and enjoy the great outdoors. No smog and noise pollution here.”

Darlene felt her eyelids closing and she fought it. “Thank you, but I think I’ll keep going.”

“No problem.” He opened up his magazine again. “I’ll turn the gas pump on for you.”

Darlene went outside into the heat and filled her car with gas, wiping the sweat and dirt from her face. While she was doing it, she ate the candy bars before they fully melted and drank half the soda in one pull.

She looked around the immediate area and sighed. It was gorgeous. It was hot but not crazy humid, and there was no snow in sight. She was sure it didn’t rain too often, either. And it was truly in the middle of nowhere.

The gas station attendant had mentioned a “couple” in town. They went to San Francisco and were bored. Darlene thought she might also get bored there. There was no reason for her to drive there, anyway. One spot was as good as the next, especially when there was no real destination in mind. As long as it wasn’t Maine or surrounded by well-meaning but annoying family, she would be fine.

She didn’t know if it was the gas fumes or her lack of sleep or both, but she got light-headed for a moment and leaned against the car.

When she shook it off, she saw the man standing in the doorway of the gas station looking worried.

Darlene smiled and gave him a quick wave. “I’m fine.”

“Sun get to you?”

Darlene shrugged. “I think all of it is getting to me.” She glanced at the gas pump and pulled cash out of her pocket, meeting the gas station attendant halfway and handing him exact change.

He tipped his dirty ball cap. “You have a pleasant drive, ma’am. I hope you swing back this way on your return to Maine.”

Darlene was shocked. How did he know where she was from?

He grinned, obviously reading her face. “Your license plates, ma’am.”

She sighed and felt her face flush with embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. I’m just tired. And obviously not good around strangers. I need to go before I say something stupid and put my foot in my mouth.” She looked away and walked-ran to her car.

What an idiot, she thought. You’ve seen too many bad horror movies. Just because it’s a throwback gas station from the 1950s with a single attendant who is overly friendly, you imagine he has bodies strung up in the garage.

If he did, Darlene didn’t want to see them.

She had the windows down and the wind whipped her hair as she took off west. The farther away from Maine, the better.

She blinked and missed half the town (whatever the secret name of it was), and was on a semi-main road in minutes. It was yet another stretch of lonely highway, just like the songs said.

Darlene tried to find a radio station but got nothing but static. The next time she got to an actual city she’d buy a car charger for her iPod, which had been dead and useless the last couple of days. You can plan every trip down to the last detail and then get derailed by something as simple as an eight-dollar plug, she thought.

A few more miles down the road and the monotony of the landscape was getting to Darlene. She bounced in her seat and shook her head to scare away the cobwebs, but it was no use. She wouldn’t last another hour driving like this.

She swore she would stop and park at the next restaurant or hotel or gas station. She needed a power nap but didn’t want to pull over randomly on the side of a sparsely travelled road.

Pretty much any parking lot would suffice at this point.

Darlene kept driving, rocking and squirming to stay awake, knowing how stupid she was being. The gas station guy was harmless and had offered her a meal and a place to sleep.

If she turned around right now, she could be back in half an hour. It would be dark soon, and despite how pretty the sunset looked ahead of her, she didn’t want to drive through this desolate landscape without streetlights or civilization.

I’ll try ten more miles and then I’ll turn around, she swore to herself.

Darlene played with the radio for something to do so her mind wouldn’t shut off and kill her. She kept one eye on the road ahead, which was a straight, steaming blacktop for as far as she could see.

A highway to Hell, she thought.

When the radio finally tuned into something other than static, it was more talk radio. She sighed but turned it up. Maybe someone would say something stupid and she could argue with the radio for a while and stay awake. She used to love listening to Howard Stern as a kid, before he jumped to pay radio. No matter who his guest was, she was enthralled by his banter.

“…not a drill. I repeat, this is really happening. It looks like we are under attack from terrorists. The caldera has been blown up. We are under attack,” the panicked guy on the radio was saying.

Darlene thought at first it was the same load of crap she’d heard a while ago, before she’d stopped for gas. She’d barely listened and was about to flip the dial around again. Just more ‘end-of-the-world’ garbage someone was trying to go viral with for a laugh. But this was a different DJ on a different radio station. What were the chances of someone else doing the same hoax an hour or more later?

When she slowed the vehicle down and pulled over onto the side of the road, she explored the radio dial until she found a different station, reporting the same news.

America was under attack, and Yellowstone was the first strike. A nuclear weapon had detonated, creating a chain reaction of natural and unnatural magnitude.

“Please let this be a joke,” Darlene said. “There is no way this is really happening.”

She sat in silence for the next hour, listening to the updating newscasts as the sun moved lower on the horizon. She feared that if she kept driving, she’d lose the signal.

There were unconfirmed reports of rioting in major cities already, which she couldn’t understand. Why would L.A. and San Francisco go crazy only a few hours into this mess? Where was the National Guard? The military?

Darlene had turned the car off to save gas, but with only the windows open, she was a ball of sweat again. The sun was nearly gone; dusk was behind her but she decided to head back east and see if the gas station guy was still around and the offer still on the table.

San Francisco was no longer an option.

As soon as she started the car and turned around, the radio signal got weaker. Within five minutes it was gone, but Darlene had heard enough.

She drove as fast as she dared, topping one hundred miles an hour. She was wide awake with a rush of adrenaline at the bad news. It didn’t take her long to shoot into the gas station parking lot, tires screeching and dust billowing.

“You alright?” the guy said as he ran outside. “You scared me.”

Darlene jumped out of her car. “Have you been listening to the radio?”

“Nah. Nothing I want to hear comes in this far out. Why?”

“We’re under attack,” Darlene said.

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Darlene threw up her hands. “The country. America. The U.S. of A. The damn Koreans or Russians or someone has attacked Yellowstone National Park.”

He turned and looked into the distance. “That’s really far from this spot.” He turned back to Darlene. “Any secondary strikes or did it just happen?”

“I think it’s been a few hours. I don’t know. They are telling people to stay away from major cities like San Francisco,” Darlene said.

“Yes, very good idea. I need to call my wife, Pheebz, and tell her to monitor the news. I’m going to close up, too. Will you help me? I’m Herbert Brinker, by the way.”

“Darlene Bobich. Pleased to meet you again, I guess. I’m not sure what help I’m going to be closing up, though.”

“If what you’re saying is true, we don’t have much time. I need you to bag up all the food and drink you can and fill your car with it. Pack it in, and anything else you think we’ll need,” Herbert said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I have the old gas truck in the garage out back. I’m going to fill it. Then I’ll lock up and you can follow me back to my property. The couple that returned from San Francisco should be coming back this way in the middle of the night, unless they got wind of what’s happening. We told them about a cute hidden spot near the lake to the north. They were going to get away for a few hours.”

“Is all this necessary? Do you think the neighbors will rob you?” Darlene asked, looking around. There wasn’t another person in sight.

“I think once panic sets in, and especially if the news is telling people to get out of the cities, eventually we’ll have our main roads filled with desperate people with nowhere to go. And they won’t have the money, or won’t want to part with their money, and they’ll loot. I’ve seen it before. I go by the worst-case scenario, which says I can kiss my gas station goodbye. In any case, we’ll need these supplies for ourselves. We can talk more about this at the house. You look exhausted, anyway. I doubt you would’ve made it a few more miles,” Herbert said. “Go fill the bags. I need to call my wife and tell her to set another plate for dinner.”

Chapter Six

Day 1 - NYC - 8:25 am

“You all right?” Tynes had propped Mike up against a wall, clapping one hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

“You fucking tased me, man.” Mike looked accusingly at the cop.

“Would you rather I shot you?”

“Would have been able to escape; no way your sausage fingers fit through that trigger guard.”

“Give me your hands so I can cuff you.” Tynes said nothing as he looked at the scarred hands Mike thrust out in front of him. When he was done, he yanked on Mike, who was unable to stand.

“Give me a minute, man.”

“Fine, let’s do this your way.” Tynes wrapped a meaty hand under Mike’s shoulder and pulled him up effortlessly. Mike’s legs dragged uselessly behind him. He was, as of yet, unable to control them with any great degree of success.

“Come on, you’re going to drag me all the way back to your cruiser like this? Just put me down and get the car. I promise I’ll wait.”

“Yeah, like I believe you.”

“I’m cuffed, and my legs feel like they’re asleep. How far do you think I’m going to get?”

“I leave you alone in this condition, how long do you think it’ll take the jackals, especially in this neighborhood, to roll you?”

“Who’s being racist now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mike. I had to chase your ass all over the damn city. Now I have to drag your ass back. I am not a happy man.”

“Is it because you can’t pump the blood high enough to oxygenate that giant melon of yours?”

Tynes shook Mike a couple of times just for effect.

“I had a pretty decent beat until your honky ass showed up. Sure, I had my troublemakers, but I don’t know, I guess they just weren’t as resilient as you. No matter how many times I try to uproot you, you keep coming back. Like a fucking weed on my prized lawn.”

“You’re a cop; you don’t have a lawn. Not in the city. Not unless you take a little on the side. Is that what this is all about? I’m not giving you your little piece of pie?”

“Yeah, I can’t even begin to decide what I would do with ten percent of your take. Shit, two dollars and twenty cents. I could get a half-cup of coffee.”

“Who said anything about ten percent? More like three. That’s the going rate for corrupt cops.”

Tynes smacked Mike in the back of the head hard enough that his teeth clacked together.

“Hey, someone pull out their fucking phone and film this shit, will you! A cop is beating me in broad daylight!”

People streamed by on their own way. Off to work, some to home, others to illicit affairs and wrongdoings. And like most New Yorkers, none made more than a cursory glance at the policeman and his prisoner.

“You’ve been here long enough to know that no one gives a shit, Mike.”

A street vendor was just opening up his stall on the corner of Forty-Second and Broadway. Lights blazed from forty-foot displays hawking everything from video games to soda.

“Hey man, want a drink? I’m dying of thirst. I’ll buy, it’s the least I can do. The money is in my front left pocket.”

Tynes hadn’t realized it until Mike said something, but right this very moment, his mouth felt like the Sahara desert during a sandstorm.

“This a trick?”

“Yeah, I have a mousetrap in my pocket. What the hell, man?”

“Any needles?”

“Weren’t you supposed to frisk me when you cheated and shot me?”

“I did while your teeth were still chattering and you were doing the worm, but I want to make sure.”

“No hard drugs here, man. I like the occasional joint and beer, but that’s it. Come on, grab the money and get us some drinks. I’ve got that taste in my mouth like I licked the prongs of a nine-volt battery and left it there.”

“Done that often?”

Mike shrugged.

Tynes grabbed the money. “This is a loan. I left my wallet in my car.”

“Sure, sure. I’ve said that on dates before. Works like a charm.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“Then why is your hand in my pants?”

Tynes quickly withdrew with a wadded up twenty. “I don’t like you very much.”

Mike looked down the street wondering if he could beat feet. The judge had told him if he graced the floor of his courtroom again, he would be spending some time as a guest of the city.

“I see what you see, so don’t even bother.” Tynes roughly grabbed Mike’s shoulder and drove him into the front of the cart.

“Hey man, is this how you treat all your dates?”

“Shut up. Two waters, please.” The cop had turned to the cart attendant. The man, like most of the vendors throughout the city, was of Middle Eastern descent. Nothing new there, but Tynes got an uneasy feeling from how many times the man looked at his watch as the transaction happened.

“Waiting for something, buddy?” Tynes asked, fishing for answers.

“Go now,” the man said brusquely.

“Wow, he doesn’t like you either. You ever think about working on your disposition?”

“Shut up, Mike,” Tynes said as he pulled him away.

“Um…how about some water?”

“Something’s wrong here. Did you see that man? He was nervous, and he kept looking at his watch.”

“Officer Tynes, I hate to tell you this, but you’re a pretty intimidating looking guy.”

“It’s more than that. The only people afraid of cops are the guilty.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s just your jaded view of the world. You guys think everyone is guilty, and you give off that vibe. Can you stop dragging me around and give me a drink?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he said, though the majority of his attention was still on the cart vendor, who was now on a cell phone, still checking his watch.

Mike looked to see what the cop was looking at. “Tell you what, just let me go, and then you can harass him in peace.”

“Fat chance.”

“Come on, Officer, I’m going to get time for this.”

“About time, too. Your shifty lawyer has been getting your ass off the hook far too often.”

“He’s court appointed, and I don’t think Jerry Flendon is what you’d call a top-notch defense attorney. Tough to trust a man who can’t even remember your name. Do you know one time he advised me to start drooling so I could get a plea of insanity for my “murder” charge? Shit! I was actually in there for selling hot phones. How the hell did I know the phones were hot?”

“Maybe a little time will do you right. And don’t give me that crap. Benny the Loon hands you a crate of iPhones and tells you to sell them for fifty bucks a pop and you don’t see a problem?”

“I saw an opportunity.”

“Well, now you get to see bars.”

“Come on man, I’m too pretty for jail.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you did all the stupid shit you did.”

Mike got serious. “I’m just trying to survive, man. Place to stay, something to eat. That’s all I’m trying to do. I don’t hurt no one. I sold those phones to folks who probably couldn’t afford them normally, and I take small bets. Wow, it’s a good thing you got me off the streets; the world’s a safer place.”

“I don’t make the laws, Mike. Personally, I don’t give a shit about the phones or the betting. Hell, I’ve done some myself. The law is the law. You seem smarter than your average criminal. Use the time in lockup, get some education, read a little. It won’t be hard time; Rikers has some quality programs if you get involved. Maybe get back in touch with your family. They miss you.”

“How the hell do you know what my folks think?”

“You’re on my case load. I’ve been keeping in touch with them to see if you’ve checked in or not. They’re concerned.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Even my mother?”

There was a pregnant pause as Officer Tynes thought about it. “Well, perhaps most of the apprehension is on your father’s side, but she cares as well.”

“Weird. How much time am I looking at?”

“With your propensity for getting in trouble, I’m thinking eighteen months.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Eighteen months? I’ll be twenty-six when I get out.”

“It’s not like your life is going to be over.”

“Says the cop who will still be walking around, eating cheeseburgers and french fries while I’m eating gruel.”

“This isn’t the 1700s and you’re not a London orphan. Now stop talking and I’ll pour some water into your mouth.”

Mike’s mouth, which had already been arid, was now a barren wasteland as he thought of his impending incarceration. He took great swallows as the cool water cascaded down his throat. “Hey, what the hell?” Mike asked, as the fluid began to pour down his chin and onto his chest while Officer Tynes turned and inadvertently moved his hand.

“Where’d the cart go?” he asked.

“Getting soaked here.”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He tipped the bottle back up. “Did you see where he went?”

“Who gives a shit? Maybe it’s prayer time or there’s a better corner to work. One without cops dragging prisoners around. I’m sure we don’t do any wonders for his business.”

“There was something about him I didn’t like.”

“Shocker. A cop not liking somebody.”

“Come on, wise ass. I’ve got a fantastic cell for you. Got a view to die for. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll make some new friends inside.”

“You have a sick sense of humor.”

Officer Tynes used his chest-mounted radio to let his station know that he’d apprehended the perp, that they were currently on foot heading back to the patrol car, and no, he did not need additional backup as everything was under control.

The sidewalk, which had been bustling with morning commuters and tourists alike, was beginning to thin, and quickly. Horns began to beep incessantly as a large, gathering crowd was blocking auto traffic all around Times Square.

“What the hell is going on?” Tynes said as he shouldered Mike along. Throngs of people were congregating, looking up at the large displays and LED ticker ribbons, which were showing what looked like aerial scenes from the summer’s newest disaster blockbuster.

At first, there were protests as Tynes pushed his way through the crowd, but those quickly subsided when the people realized he was a cop and, more importantly, a huge cop. Subtitles ran across the bottom of the displays.

“…the State Department has confirmed that a thermonuclear warhead was detonated within Yellowstone National Park at approximately 8:52 a.m. Eastern Time. It is unclear at this time if the explosion was accidental or purposely set. What we do know is that the bomb was underground, greatly reducing the damage but not the yield. Although people, animals, and homes as far away as three miles from the epicenter have been destroyed in a firestorm of hellish radiation infused fire….”

“A fucking nuke on American soil?” Mike didn’t overly express his patriotism, and he had a serious case of distrust of authority figures, but that someone had the balls to seriously mess with his country affected him in ways he had never encountered.

“Shut up.” Tynes’ hand covered Mike’s face and nearly encased his head.

“Don’t need to hear to read, dumbass,” Mike mumbled.

“…it may be weeks until rescue operations can begin. Meanwhile, wildfires have sprung up all along the periphery of the blast zone….” The news reporter, who knew less about news and more about looking good in front of the camera, paused, placing her hand over her ear as off-camera instructions were apparently being read to her. Mike wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone blanch quite the way she had in those few seconds.

He couldn’t wrap his head around what could be worse than a nuclear device being set off other than a second one.

“Um…I’m sorry folks, we are now receiving reports from the USGS, United States Geological Service, that severe earthquakes are being reported along the Yellowstone caldera….”

A wave of panic began to overtake the crowd as they realized the implications of the events that were unfolding. Someone at the station had extraordinary fact-finding skills, as images of the graphic repercussions of a super volcano depicted on a PBS broadcast from earlier that year were put up next to the talking head.

“What’s going on?” someone asked.

“I have to get home.” Many others echoed the sentiment. Some cried outright . Others bustled off to stores.

“You have to let me go, man,” Mike said.

“No way.”

“Don’t you get it? Someone set off a nuke in the hopes to blow that volcano, and when that thing goes, so does half the U.S. This place is going to go to shit, and really fast. Half these people right now are heading to stores to buy everything out. How long do you think it’s going to be until the rioting and looting start?”

“That thing isn’t going to blow. The earthquakes are just the after effects of the blast.”

“Oh, is that all? Because people aren’t going to flip their shit over a little, itty-bitty nuke going off.”

For the first time that morning, Officer Tynes looked confused about what he should do.

“Listen man, you are going to have way bigger fish to fry than me. I promise, man. I’ll head back to Massachusetts, I’ll make nice with my family. You’ll never hear from me again.”

“Come on. You’re right, it is going to get bad soon, and I’ve got to get you into lockup before that happens.”

“You’re an asshole. Someday this decision will come back to haunt you.”

“It already has.”

Mike turned to glare at Tynes. Officer Tynes grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and began to escort him to his cruiser. He’d no sooner seized Mike when his radio came on.

“All units, all units, report back to your precincts ASAP.”

“I wonder what that’s all about.”

“You cannot be this thick. It’s about to be anarchy, and they’re rallying the troops.”

“I think you’ve watched too many movies. The world isn’t about to end. Shit gets too bad, they’ll have the National Guard in here for a while. That’s about it.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. That volcano blows, the whole Midwest pretty much bites the dust, and that means the majority of food crops goes with it. All of a sudden, fat Americans no longer get their six squares a day. Know what happens then? All those crazy prepper folks with enough guns to arm a third-world country form roving gangs that take everything for themselves.”

“Shit, Mike, you have a vivid imagination. You could maybe have had a career writing books if you weren’t such a screw-up.”

“Everything’s black and white with you isn’t it? Wrong or right, no in between. I know some of the shit I do is a step or two over from the law. Do you also know I go to church regularly, or that I volunteer coach a youth baseball team, the Bronx Yankees? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is for me to put on a Yankees cap? But I do it for them, not me. Yeah, I’m a fuck up, and I got a family that feels the same way. But I do good as well. Where’re the people that police that side of the law, that give an ‘attaboy’ or maybe a pat on the back or maybe a fucking pass when I run afoul?”

“I’m not a judge, but bring that up with him. That can go a long way. My job is to enforce the law. You broke it, plain and simple. You keep your nose clean, and I don’t give a shit where you live. You’ll never need to see me.”

“Pious fuck.”

“What’s that?”

“Apple pie is fucking delicious.”

They felt, more than heard, the first concussive impact from the explosion. Tynes, fearing there would be more, had laid Mike out in an attempt to shield him from what might happen next.

“You all right?”

“I was until you tried to crush me.” Mike made banter, but he was genuinely scared. Yellowstone was on a scale of something he could not even fathom, bomb explosion in New York though? For that was what it felt like. He couldn’t help but wonder if someone was taking advantage of an already shitty situation or if they were furthering a cause. Both were serious reasons for alarm. Tynes had no sooner pulled Mike back up off the ground when an explosion much closer rocked both of the men off their feet. “What the hell?”

“I need to get you back to the precinct.” He started dragging Mike behind him as people panicked around them.

“Man, you got way bigger problems than me. Cut me loose.”

The plea fell on deaf ears. Tynes was like a pit bull; once he had laid his teeth into something, nothing short of a baseball bat to the head would shake him loose.

Mike started grasping for straws. “That cart man!”

“What are you talking about?” a clearly flustered Tynes said.

“The guy at the cart that was checking his watch—he knew this was coming, you get him, you know who set the bombs off. Isn’t that a much bigger collar than some low level numbers pusher?”

Tynes ran, dragging Mike behind him much like a recalcitrant toy truck, then tossed him into the back of the cruiser.

Panic had set in. People were running on the sidewalks, veering into the streets if they could not move fast enough. Tynes’ cruiser was rolling slowly as he took this all in.

“I hope the Guard shows up soon,” Mike said as he watched through the side window of the cop car. “You really aren’t going to let me go, you fucking one-way motherfucker.” The cruiser pulled into the underground parking lot for the police station.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Blow me,” Mike said as Tynes roughly pulled him out of the car. “Ever hear of police brutality?”

“I’d shut the fuck up if I were you. There aren’t any cameras down here.”

Mike quickly did so, realizing as he looked around, the big cop wasn’t bluffing. Underground, no one could hear you scream.

“Jonesy, toss this asshole in a cell. I’ll write up the report in a minute. I want to see if I can get a hold of my wife.”

Mike was tossed into a main holding area with at least twenty other less than desirables from across the city. Two men over in the corner sized him up and were about to make their move when Mike flashed a small tattoo on his right bicep of a hawk snapping a spine. The two turned without hesitation and sat back down.

Mike was processed for illegal gaming. Tynes had at least dropped the evading and resisting arrest charges, which could have added years to his sentence. Tynes could only hope the kid would finally learn his lesson.

Chapter Seven

Day 2 I-70

Darlene felt like she’d never slept that well in her entire life. She sat up in bed and stretched, taking in the guest bedroom, with faint light sneaking through the blinds and the smell of a sweet candle burning in the bathroom.

She tossed her luggage on the bed and rummaged through to find clothes that weren’t as dirty as the rest, a pair of her jean shorts and a light Red Sox t-shirt. She would do flip-flops and wear a big hat, if she could find it, and be a tourist while she was in town. She took a quick shower, got dressed and slapped some quick makeup on so she didn’t scare away her hosts.

When she went out into the hallway, she heard the television on in the living room, more talk about a terrorist attack. This isn’t really happening, she thought.

“Good morning,” Darlene said, walking into the living room.

Herbert was the first to rise off his recliner with a smile. “Good morning to you, Darlene.”

“Are you hungry? I’m just about to go into the kitchen and fix some scrambled eggs and bacon,” his wife, Pheebz, said, standing. She glanced at the TV. “This darn news is so distracting.”

Darlene smiled at her. She didn’t know the other two people but guessed they were the couple who’d stopped back in from San Francisco. The husband was about Darlene’s age and quite handsome; he had a great smile, while his wife seemed tired and frowned when she looked at Darlene. She wasn’t unattractive. In fact, she was quite beautiful, but Darlene’s female intuition lit up. This lady thinks I’m a threat to her marriage, even though I just walked in the room, Darlene thought. This is going to be fun.

“How did you sleep?” Herbert asked as he walked past Darlene into the kitchen.

“I slept great. It’s very comfortable. You have a lovely home,” Darlene said. She ignored the cold stare she was getting from the guy’s wife and followed Herbert into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Herbert asked, pouring himself another cup and taking down a cup for Darlene when she nodded. “Milk and sugar in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“What did I miss overnight?” Darlene asked.

“Quite a bit, I’m afraid. It looks like coastal California is in a panic and moving inland. There were riots overnight in the worst parts of Los Angeles. Any excuse to act up,” Pheebz said.

“Now, now, dear. People are scared. I’m going to take John with me back to the gas station to get the rest of the gas if possible. I wasn’t surprised when I got the call my weekly gas delivery was canceled. Everyone is hunkering down and seeing if they can ride this out,” Herbert said.

Darlene was going to ask who John was when the husband walked in, gave a quick smile again to Darlene, and helped himself to more coffee.

“I think we’re going to head out,” John said.

Herbert shook his head. “No way. Haven’t you been watching the same news we’re watching? People are packing the main roads. It won’t be long before airports are closed due to the smoke in the air.”

“We need to get back to Florida,” John said. He glanced over his shoulder. “My wife wants to be close to her parents, and I left my old man in Pensacola.”

“Are you going to drive back?” Pheebz asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. We’ll see how far we can get,” John said. He didn’t look too happy.

Darlene watched his wife walk by the kitchen, peeking in and frowning when she saw John standing close to Darlene, before rushing off into the back of the house.

“We’re going to pack and be gone in a few,” John said. He thanked Herbert and Pheebz for their hospitality.

“I’ll pack you some supplies. Food and water,” Pheebz said.

John shook his head. “No thank you. We’ll stop on the way east and get what we need. It’ll be a long trip back but we’ll manage. I know you’ll need it more than we will. You don’t have many options for supplies coming in, but I’ll head south and east and skirt the major cities. I can pick up things along the way.”

“Will you at least stay for breakfast?” Pheebz asked.

“I’ll check with my wife,” John said, then went to find her.

Herbert and Pheebz shared a quick look, and Darlene had to smile. It was like her parents all those years, having a conversation about someone with a glance. The couple knew how whipped John was, too. There would be no stopping his wife. They’d leave but, hopefully, be back safe and sound.

Darlene didn’t think they’d get very far once they got close to major cities, which they’d have to get near if they wanted to use even tertiary highways.

“You never answered me about breakfast. Hungry?”

Darlene nodded. “Yes. I can help.”

Pheebz waved a spatula in her direction. “This is my place during the crisis. Trust me. This is the only spot where I can forget about what’s going on. When Junior was sick...” Pheebz got quiet.

“I’ll take a heaping stack of pancakes,” Herbert said quickly.

Pheebz turned around, stared at him with a mock mad face and waved the spatula. “You and those damn pancakes. You’re getting scrambled eggs and toast, and you’ll like it.”

Herbert went over to his wife and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll eat anything you cook, hon.” He patted his large gut. “As you can plainly see, I do enjoy groceries and I do enjoy my wife’s cooking.”

Darlene wandered back into the living room since she wasn’t needed in the kitchen. She’d let the couple have a moment. She was sure Junior was a loved one who’d died, and talking about it was painful. Darlene wasn’t one to pry. Hell, she’d just lost her dad. The last thing she wanted was to sit around and cry about loved ones who were no longer with them.

The images on the TV flashed by, scenes of major fires and police trying to control large crowds. There was a shot of Manhattan, the New York City streets looking like a war zone.

Darlene needed to call her aunt and make sure everyone in her family was all right, even though she didn’t want to get into a lengthy conversation about what was happening in the world, or about her dad.

She pulled out her cell phone but there was no signal.

“Oh, that won’t work down here in this valley. I have a landline in the office for emergencies. A cordless hanging up in the kitchen, too. I carry my cell phone for work but don’t even bother taking it out of my truck when I’m home,” Herbert said. “Feel free to call whoever you want and take as long as you want.” He grinned and looked back into the kitchen. “But I wouldn’t take too long because your food will get cold, and she’s fixing a meal fit for a king in there. It’s the best way Pheebz knows how to deal with a crisis: by cooking for an army.”

“I’ll wait to call,” Darlene said, glad for the reprieve. Her stomach was growling, anyway. She sipped on her coffee and tried to relax.

Herbert sat down on his recliner with his own cup of coffee and stared at the television.

“I’ll go with you to the gas station to help load up,” Darlene said.

“Yeah, I appreciate it. I’m too old to be lifting all of that on my own. I really need to make sure I take all the Tylenol and Aleve, too. My back will be on fire tonight,” Herbert said.

Darlene heard a door shut in the back of the house and heard suitcases being dragged down the hallway.

“Uh, thank you very much. We really appreciate it. We’re leaving now. Good luck,” John’s wife said.

Darlene didn’t even know if she’d caught the woman’s name. Not that it mattered now. She was going to run off and get herself killed. She called out a faint goodbye and went back to watching the nightmare on the TV.

Herbert led them out and came back a minute later without a word, although Darlene could see the disturbed look on his face. Obviously, the couple driving away was a stupid idea but Herbert had no control over it.

When the talking heads on CNN repeated the same scant information for the third time, Herbert changed the channel. “There has to be more information somewhere.”

CNBC newscasters were following an unverified story that the attack had come from the Middle East. Three different radical groups were claiming the victory and promising even more attacks on American soil.

The public panic added to the confusion. A foreigner was beaten in Chicago when people on the street mistook him for a terrorist. Even though he was of Pakistani ancestry, he was born in Peoria and had lived in the U.S. his entire life. Taxi drivers in New York City were pulled out of their cabs and beaten as well.

“The world has gone mad,” Darlene said. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear multiple attacks had crippled every major city. People were immediately reverting to selfish animals, trying to snatch everything they could before the next person got it. Sickening.

“Breakfast is served,” Pheebz yelled from the kitchen.

Herbert stood and let Darlene go ahead of him. “Grab what you can, Darlene. There’s only enough food for thirty people.”

“Hush up,” Pheebz said with a grin. “I do like to cook. We’re going to need essentials, dear. Bread, butter, eggs, and milk.”

“I’m not heading into Chico,” Herbert said, folding his hands.

Darlene scooped some scrambled egg onto her plate and was about to shovel it into her mouth when she noticed Pheebz also folding her hands and sitting patiently.

Dad would kill me if I started eating, Darlene thought. She put down her fork and joined the couple in prayer. She was feeling out of sorts. She hadn’t said grace since her dad had passed. It wasn’t because she had feelings either way about God; it was because she had done it for her dad.

He’d always done it for his wife, who went to church every Sunday like clockwork. While Darlene’s dad wasn’t a religious man, he would always go with his wife on holidays and never said a disparaging thing about religion. His response when Darlene had asked him as a little girl whether or not he believed in Jesus and God was simple. I’d better, just in case, right?

When Darlene opened her eyes, the couple was staring at her. She realized she’d probably been sitting with her eyes closed and hands folded for a couple of minutes. She felt her face get red and put her head down, picking up her fork and eating.

“This is delicious,” she said around bites. She wasn’t just trying to make conversation; it was real cooking.

Pheebz held the plate of bacon near Darlene. “You’d better grab another couple of pieces before my husband finishes it. He could eat bacon three meals a day.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Darlene said. She was glad for the few minutes of normalcy in her life. She’d been on the run, stopping for quick meals, eating alone in diners and fast food restaurants ever since the funeral.

It was good to make small talk with people, even if they were still strangers. She hoped she didn’t need to get to know them well. Nothing against the couple. They were lovely. But staying longer meant the situation outside had deteriorated beyond her being able to leave.

Maybe this was her wakeup call from above to get her shit together and go home to face her new life. The one without her dad and all the good and bad that came with it. Dad brought meaning to her life; she had to look after him, no matter what kind of mood he was sometimes in. She needed her dad there to fight with about taking his meds or not eating so much red meat or sneaking a cigarette from the pack he had hidden in the garage.

Darlene finished eating and filled her cup with more coffee but stayed in the kitchen with Pheebz while Herbert went to get dressed.

“Can I ask you a question, dear?” Pheebz washed the dishes while Darlene helped to clear the table.

“Sure.”

“Who was it?”

Darlene was confused. “Who was what?”

“You lost someone you cared for. I can see it in your eyes and the way you daydream,” Pheebz said.

Darlene nearly dropped the plate in her hand. “My...my dad.”

“I don’t mean to pry. Sorry,” Pheebz said.

“No, not at all. I didn’t realize it was that obvious. I ran clear across the country to escape his ghost but he’s sitting with me now. I just miss him,” Darlene said.

“You about ready?” Herbert asked, coming down the hallway.

“If you want to talk about it later, I’m here,” Pheebz said. “Be careful today, and watch over Herbert. My husband thinks he’s half his age most of the time.”

“And I feel even younger,” Herbert said with a grin as he came into the kitchen and kissed his wife. “But get the heating pad and the Vicks out for my return.” He winked at Darlene. “You know, just in case Darlene needs it from trying to keep up.”

Chapter Eight

Day 2 I-70

Herbert remarked how many more cars there were on the road today as opposed to any other. He didn’t look happy, and Darlene could see he was keeping count of the cars.

“People all fleeing east, and it’s only going to get worse,” he said.

When Darlene and Herbert arrived at the gas station, there were two cars parked near the pumps.

“Sorry, closed,” Herbert said as he got out. “We’re out of gas.” He glanced at Darlene. “Get the pistol from the glove box...just in case.”

By the time she pulled the pistol out and got out of the truck, the two cars were driving away.

“They were friendly but they only stopped a couple of times. Wait until they go a few more miles and there’s no gas, or they start hearing about it on the radio.”

“Has it all shut down this fast?” Darlene asked.

Herbert frowned before answering. “Unfortunately, it has. And what I’m doing is part of the problem. I’m not going to lie and say what I’m doing is technically legal or moral, but my family is the most important thing to me. I paid for this gas and the food and everything inside. It’s mine. I intend to hoard it and hope this all blows over, which I don’t think will happen anytime soon.”

“I can’t say I disagree with you. If I were still in Maine, I’d lock the doors and bar the windows and hope the winter supplies my dad had stored in the basement was all I needed,” Darlene said.

“Each time we come back up here, we’ll try to move one of the cars out back as well. We can fill the bigger ones first,” Herbert said. “Let me open the bay door and pull in. I don’t want anyone on the road thinking I’m open.”

As he spoke, another car, filled with a family of five, pulled up to the pump.

“I’ll go tell them we’re closed,” Darlene said. “You pull in and make a sign saying we’re out of gas.”

“I’m going to grab my wand and pull down the prices on the sign, too. Make it look like an abandoned gas station,” Herbert said. “Maybe that will deter the looters.”

Darlene laughed. She hoped he was just being really paranoid. She got to the car just as the driver, a young guy, stepped out.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” Darlene said.

“I just need some gas.”

“We’re closed.”

The guy looked really angry, really quick. “Bullshit. I know you have gas, so just turn the pump on, bitch.”

Darlene tried to remain calm. The passenger door opened and another guy, in his early twenties, got out and put his hands on top of the hood.

“Turn on the pump so we can go,” the other guy said.

Herbert walked out of the building and made a show of cocking the shotgun in his hands. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, old man. Your daughter won’t let us have any gas,” the driver said.

“If we had any we’d give it to you. Since we’re all out, and there’s no chance of getting a truck in with what’s going on to the east, you’ll have to look elsewhere,” Herbert said. “I’d get home, son. And tell your daddy Herbert says hi, will ya?”

“Oh, I’ll make sure I tell my daddy you’re holding out on another townie. Not a problem at all.” He climbed back in the car and started it. His passenger lingered, staring at Darlene, before getting in.

As they drove off, Herbert came to Darlene and shook his head. “The Sawyers are trouble in the best of times. I think we need to get all the important stuff on this run.”

“You think they’ll come back?” Darlene asked.

Herbert nodded. “They’ll bring their daddy, who is the local bully, along with every cousin from Arizona to California. And they don’t believe in birth control, if you know what I mean. Common sense and decency aren’t their strong points, but the law and fear of going back to jail and prison keeps them in check. I don’t think it will matter much soon. We need to hurry.”

Darlene ran back to the garage and opened the bay while Herbert grabbed the wand and began pulling the prices off the sign.

They successfully waved off two more cars before getting the pickup and another car into the bays and closing the doors.

“Right before we hit the road we’ll fill both cars with gas. I brought twenty five-gallon cans with us and should have another twenty inside. We need to fill every last one of them,” Herbert said.

Darlene found the rest of the gas cans and put them on the back of the pickup truck. The other car was an old Suburban with plenty of room. She began loading boxes of tools from the garage into the back of the vehicle while Herbert went into the main store and made a quick sign with a piece of cardboard and a marker.

Out Of Gas.

He ran to the pumps and tied it on before heading back to box up as much of the snacks and drinks as he could. Darlene could hear the register open and Herbert put all the cash in his pockets. It’s his money, Darlene thought. Might as well take it.

Within half an hour, they had the Suburban filled with anything they could pack into it, only the driver’s seat empty for Darlene.

Herbert handed her the shotgun. “We’ll pull both trucks out and fill the gas tanks first. I’ll turn two pumps on. Then we’ll do the cans, but we need to be quick. Ready?”

Darlene could only nod, her mouth dry. She’d never had to do something as crazy and dangerous as this. She was scared to pump gas.

Her hands were shaking as she drove to the pumps and got out, looking up and down the road for oncoming cars. Darlene prayed no one would pull up and confront them while they worked. It would be obvious to anyone they weren’t out of gas.

Herbert had his pistol on the top of the gas pump within easy reach. Darlene had to put the shotgun against the Suburban but she still had her Desert Eagle within reach at all times.

When a car pulled into the parking lot, Herbert tried to wave them away. The car drove to them and the driver got out but Herbert lifted the weapon and yelled for the man to get back in his car. Luckily, the man did and drove off.

Darlene didn’t want to know what Herbert would’ve done if the man hadn’t complied. Would it come down to shooting and killing someone over gas? Darlene hoped it wouldn’t. She thought she’d rather be without than be in such a confrontation.

Herbert couldn’t meet her gaze as he went to work filling gas cans and putting them back on the pickup bed. Darlene went over and helped fill them.

It took about thirty minutes to finish and Darlene realized she’d held her breath for most of it. They’d waved off two more cars, but just as she finished filling the last empty can, an old station wagon pulled up to the pump next to them and a woman rolled down her window.

She was pregnant and had three small children in the backseat.

“Excuse me, is there any gas left?” she asked.

Darlene looked at Herbert, who was reaching for his gun but stopped. He looked at Darlene before nodding his head.

Darlene reached her gas nozzle to the woman’s car and began filling it.

When the woman opened her door, Herbert walked over and handed her a big wad of cash.

“Oh, I can’t take this,” she said.

“You’ll need it. Trust me. Just take it and don’t stop until you get somewhere safe. Stay out of the big cities and off the main roads.” Herbert was staring at the children as he spoke. “Heck, what am I doing? You can stay with us. It’s too dangerous for you on the road.”

“Thank you for everything, but I’m meeting my husband. I need to get going. I was running out of gas,” the woman said.

“You can stay with us and call him. Believe me, you don’t want to be on the road,” Herbert said.

Darlene finished filling her tank. She looked at the road for more cars. They were wasting time now. She didn’t want to be cruel, but the woman needed to either follow them or drive away. Every minute spent sitting in the open was bad.

Herbert slapped the top of the station wagon and wished her well, walking back to the pickup truck. “You ready?”

Darlene hopped into the Suburban and followed Herbert out of the parking lot. He hadn’t stopped to turn off the gas tanks. She didn’t know if he’d done it on purpose so the next lucky people coming along might ignore the sign and get gas, or he was just itching to get back to the ranch.

A mile up the road she pulled out her cell phone and sighed when she saw she had three bars, enough to call her aunt. She scrolled through her missed calls from the last few days and dialed her number.

The phone rang twice before it disconnected.

Darlene tried it twice more with the same result before giving up. She’d try again later if they came back out to the gas station. If Herbert had no intention of coming back, and Darlene hoped it was the case, she could use the house phone and call tonight. With everything going on, she wouldn’t be surprised to know the cell towers or lines were down. It was a long way to Boston from here.

When they got back to the house, Pheebz was waiting on the front steps. Darlene noticed she had a rifle leaning against the railing.

“Any trouble?” she asked as Herbert walked up and kissed her cheek.

“It could’ve been worse. The Sawyer brothers are going to give us some flack,” Herbert said. “But we cleaned out everything I thought we needed.”

Darlene went to unload the Suburban but Herbert put his hand up. “Park it in the red barn out back. We’ll clean out my pickup of the gas as quick as we can and go make another run. We’ll keep picking up a new car and loading it until we run out of stuff or vehicles,” Herbert said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Darlene said and drove the Suburban into the barn. By the time she jogged back to the front of the house, most of the gasoline cans were already out and on the porch.

“Pheebz will take them inside and store them in the root cellar while we go,” Herbert said.

Darlene jumped into the pickup without another word. She was frightened to be going back to the gas station. What if the Sawyer brothers were waiting for them? Or someone worse?

They drove back in silence, but both exchanged looks at the number of cars on the road. Most of them had bags and furniture strapped to the roofs of the vehicles, and scared faces peering out the windows.

Darlene put her hand on the shotgun as they neared the gas station. She could see a dozen cars in the parking lot in line for the gas pumps.

“Looks like we will be out of gas soon,” Herbert said. “I knew leaving the pump on was the wrong idea. And I don’t see any locals in line, either.”

“What about the rest of the supplies?” Darlene asked, but as she looked at the gas station building itself she had her answer. The front door had been kicked in and both windows to either side were broken.

Herbert drove around to the back of the building and pulled a set of keys from his pocket, thumbing through them until he found the one he was looking for. He pointed at an old Camaro parked farther in the back parking lot next to the dumpster. “Think you can drive it back? It might be the last one we get. Might as well take a car I know has a full tank and new engine.”

Darlene took the key and grinned. “I’ll race you home.”

“Sounds good. I think most folks are heading in the opposite direction and the local police have their hands full with all this traffic in town. But be careful,” Herbert said.

“Of course.”

Chapter Nine

Day 2 I-70

The Camaro was the last car they retrieved from the gas station. By the time they raced home (Darlene let Herbert win) and turned back, the gas station was gone.

Engulfed in flames.

None of the vehicles in the back parking lot were worth saving, most of them destroyed before the fire. Darlene could clearly see sliced tires and busted windshields. Whoever had done this had made sure nothing was salvageable.

“The Sawyers will come sooner than later. We need to be prepared,” Herbert said as he turned back toward home.

Darlene watched from the passenger side as the sky darkened, outlining the flames. She was sure, with any remaining gas left, it would burn for hours, and no one would put it out.

Herbert startled her by putting a hand on her shoulder as he drove.

“I’m really sorry for getting you into this mess,” he said.

“What are you talking about? If I’d left, there’s an excellent chance I wouldn’t be alive right now, or I’d be stuck somewhere without food and water. I’m glad I stayed.”

“The Sawyers will come hot and heavy as soon as they think we dropped our guard,” Herbert said. “I’m not sure if you can handle it.”

“Because I’m a girl?”

Herbert laughed. “No, we both know you’re a woman. But you weren’t raised out here. You were brought up—”

“City folk? You can say it.” Darlene pointed at the side of the road. “Pull over.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” Herbert said.

Darlene laughed. “Not at all. But pull over and get out with me. This will only take a second.”

Herbert looked confused, which made Darlene smile.

As soon as they got out Darlene walked up the road, looking both ways to make sure there wasn’t any traffic. They’d already pulled off the main road so they were clear.

She pulled her Desert Eagle out and took a shooting stance.

“See the middle tree? Second branch from the bottom,” Darlene said and pulled the trigger. The shot hit the branch and split it from the tree.

When she turned to look at Herbert she wasn’t surprised to see him smiling.

“I guess you do know how to shoot. My apologies, ma’am.”

“Apology accepted. My dad gave me this weapon and took me shooting every chance he got. I got pretty good with it. I just hope I don’t have to aim at a living, breathing target,” Darlene said.

“So do I. Let’s get home,” Herbert said.

As soon as they got back on the road, Darlene tried calling her aunt again, but the call wouldn’t connect. She dialed a couple of the women she worked with at the mall, but again, no connection.

“No luck?” Herbert asked.

“Nope.” Darlene put her phone away and slumped in her seat. As much as she appreciated what Herbert and Pheebz were doing for her, she wished she were home. In times of trouble, it was the most comforting place to be, and she couldn’t be farther away from Maine right now.

Herbert turned on the radio. There was no music, only news.

“You mind if I listen for a bit? Pheebz gets really emotional, so I want to keep the TV off tonight if possible. I’d rather know all the bad things before she does,” Herbert said.

“Not a problem.”

Darlene had been listening while she drove the Suburban and Camaro back to the house. The reports were all the same information regurgitated over and over in an endless loop. The whole country was already reverting to animalistic tendencies—people attacking neighbors and looting at will. It was as if the thin curtain of civility had been lifted easily away. All anyone really needed was the weakest excuse to kill and steal, and that was what they seemed to be doing, at least according to the radio reports.

By the time they pulled into the long driveway and Herbert parked next to the porch, Darlene had heard enough. She gladly turned off the radio and went inside.

Pheebz was sitting on the couch watching the television, and she and Herbert exchanged a look without a word. Once again, Darlene knew the important information had been passed between the married couple.

“We need to shut all the windows and lock the doors tonight,” Herbert said.

“I made some coffee,” Pheebz said without getting up. She looked at Darlene and smiled. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Darlene said, but she helped Herbert shut the house down first.

Herbert went into his bedroom and came out with three rifles. He propped one near the front door, one by the back door in the kitchen, and the last by the door to the garage.

“Rosemary called,” Pheebz said when Herbert walked back into the living room.

Herbert made a face like he’d sucked on a lemon. “What did she want?”

Pheebz frowned. “She’s coming over tomorrow and bringing the boys. She doesn’t feel safe at her house.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Herbert said.

Pheebz shook her head.

“I’m going to call and tell her not to come.”

“Dear, she’s family. What if this is really as bad as they’re saying?”

Herbert stopped and glanced at Darlene. “My sister is a mess, to be nice about it.” He touched the side of his head and spun his finger. “She’s loopy. Not the sharpest pencil in the box, and she sees things. Weird things. Her kids, on the other hand, are just two little animals.”

“Be nice,” Pheebz said then clucked her tongue. “They’re rambunctious twins. Rosemary was nearly fifty when she had them. No one knows who the father is, either. She’s had a heck of a time raising them with all of her problems.”

“I don’t want them here,” Herbert said.

“You don’t have a real choice. I told her to bring all of the food and supplies she could put into her car and be over early, before people got on the road again,” Pheebz said.

“I’m going to call her just the same. Knowing my sister, she’ll bring a bunch of loud toys for the kids and nothing else,” Herbert said. He stared at Pheebz. “As if this wasn’t bad enough.”

“She’s family,” Pheebz said, but Darlene could tell she was saying it without believing what the words really meant. Pheebz was just as mad as Herbert was, but she’d probably dealt with his sister for a while today when he was gone and had resigned herself to the fact that the woman and her brats were coming tomorrow.

Darlene didn’t want to get in the middle of a family squabble. She silently hoped they were just exaggerating about his sister and the kids.

“I’m shutting down the lights tonight,” Herbert said.

“What for?” Pheebz asked.

“If the Sawyer boys are going to come around it will be tonight. They have no patience. I’m sure the gas station burning down wasn’t an accident. They’ve wanted that spot since before I was born,” Herbert said.

Pheebz sighed and looked at Darlene. “Herbert’s father and the Sawyer’s grandfather were rivals in high school. They had a idiotic feud over a girl. No one even remembers what her name was, but this stupid war has been raging for over sixty years.” She watched as Herbert walked out of the kitchen before continuing. “We tried to be civil but that didn’t stop the Sawyer kids from doing everything in their power to mess with Herbert over the years. As they’ve gotten older, they’ve gotten more bold and vicious. Last year, Buck Sawyer was arrested in Chico for drunk driving. He swears Herbert set him up because he was in the gas station buying snacks a few hours before and he might have had a few at that point. He said Herbert tipped off the State Police to have him arrested, which is a lie.”

“No it isn’t. I called them as soon as he left the parking lot,” Herbert said as he walked back into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

Pheebz put her hands on her hips. “What?”

Herbert shrugged and winked at Darlene before sitting at the table. “Why wouldn’t I? The boy was drunk as a skunk. He was going to kill someone. I’m surprised he got as far as he did.”

“You never told me you called them.”

“You never asked. What difference does it make? He has no way to prove it was me that called, and he would blame me either way, so I’m glad I tipped them off,” Herbert said.

Darlene smiled. She was at least having an amusing night seeing the couple talk and spar back and forth, just like her parents had done when she was little.

“I’ll take first watch,” Herbert said.

“I’ll take second,” Darlene answered.

Herbert nodded. “I’ll set us up with a hard chair and a table on the porch and place some steel covered with dark sheets to block any shots.”

“Please tell me it won’t come to that,” Pheebz said.

“It might. I’d rather be on the cautious side. If it isn’t the Sawyer clan, it will be someone else soon enough. Everyone knows I’m the crazy old man on the big farm who hoards everything I can get my hands on. They know I have three barns on the property and they’re not filled with horses,” Herbert said. “Tomorrow at first light, I’ll drive the property and make sure the fences are still up. It won’t keep anyone out who wants to get in, but it might deter or slow them down some.”

Pheebz shook her head and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“I’ll go to sleep now. Wake me for my shift,” Darlene said.

“I will. We can go over everything then. If you hear shooting, kindly come out guns blazing. Ask questions later,” Herbert said.

“I’ll sleep with my Desert Eagle loaded on the nightstand.”

“You saw where I placed the rifles. Tomorrow, we’ll put the rest of the guns out and boxes of ammo.” Herbert took a sip of his coffee.

“How many weapons do you own?” Darlene asked.

Herbert shrugged. “More than enough. And I’ve been buying ammo for years. I’ll need to get down to the cellar in the green barn and pull the crates. There are a few surprises down there for anyone stupid enough to come onto my property.”

Darlene wanted a cup of coffee but knew it was going to be hard enough to get to sleep. She said goodnight and left the couple to talk for a while, knowing Herbert would be at his post in a bit.

She wondered, if push came to shove, whether or not she’d be able to kill another person. What if they walked up the drive to talk? What if they were asking for help? She’d only caught a glimpse of the two Sawyer brothers. They sounded dangerous but they were also charming. She was sure they weren’t going to give up easily, especially if they really had torched the gas station.

Darlene left her clothes on since she had nothing clean. Her sneakers, placed near the bed, were tied but loose so she could slip them on easily.

The Desert Eagle was loaded and within reach.

She sighed and plopped down onto the bed. It was warm in the home, so she didn’t need to get under the covers and lose precious seconds in the event something happened.

Darlene didn’t think she’d fall asleep. Her mind was racing with thoughts of her dad. She missed Maine and saw what a stupid, selfish mistake it had been to run away from her life and what she thought were her problems. She had problems now, real ones.

While she liked Herbert and Pheebz, she really didn’t know them. Sure, they were a cute older couple, but a few minor things about Herbert were starting to gnaw at her. His reluctance to share the gasoline with people in need weighed on her mind.

Herbert seemed to be quick to the trigger, another thing she was worried about. And with his wild card sister and nephews on the way, what would happen tomorrow? Darlene didn’t want to think of the change in the house once they arrived. It was already tense with the thought of looters entering the property, but adding to the conflict right in his face might set Herbert off the deep end.

Darlene, deep in thought, must’ve finally dozed off, because at first, the sound of gunfire felt like it was in her dream.

When Pheebz swung open the bedroom door and screamed for Darlene to hurry and help Herbert on the porch, Darlene was immediately awake and glad she’d prepared.

Now she hoped she wouldn’t have to test her resolve to kill or be killed.

Chapter Ten

Day 2 I-70

Darlene heard another gunshot as she ran through the house and neared the front door, which was wide open. She tried to relax her breathing and crouched, gun drawn, waiting for more shots.

“Tell your family to stay off my property,” Herbert yelled from the front porch.

Darlene peeked across the threshold and saw headlights down the driveway.

Herbert, ducking behind the makeshift blockade on the porch, was aiming his rifle. He shot, and Darlene saw the front left headlight explode on the pickup truck before it turned and drove away, kicking up dust in the moonlight.

“Next time we might not be so lucky,” Herbert said. He stood slowly but kept the rifle pointed at where the truck had been. “They didn’t come to do anything tonight. Just trying to scare us old folks into giving them our farm and supplies. But the Sawyers will be back and with more kin than I can muster. We’ll need more help than my sister and her brats, too. This is going to get ugly, and fast.”

“Let me know what I need to do,” Darlene said. She didn’t know how much help she could possibly be, but she knew she had to try. She also knew she was on the verge of panic. Instead of being safe until everything blew over, she was now in the middle of a clan war. She needed to keep her cool.

“Right now, I think you just need to get some sleep. I’ll wake you early, and we can ride the property. Maybe you’ll see a few things I missed and offer suggestions that will help save us,” Herbert said.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Darlene looked down the now-dark driveway. “What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t. I didn’t shoot any of them, but I did do some damage. They’ll spend the next few hours getting all fired up and try to rope in a few distant cousins and tell them I tried to kill one of the boys. It’s happened before, although now with the law and the rules out the window, they’ll do more than bitch about me while they get drunk and smoke drugs,” Herbert said.

“Call me if you need my help,” Darlene said. She went back inside. She was worried, and as she passed Pheebz, she could see the older woman felt the same way. Pheebz was sitting in the kitchen in the dark, clutching a small firearm in her hand. If it wasn’t for the soft glow of the clock over the stove, Darlene would’ve missed her completely.

Darlene crawled back into bed but knew there was no way she would fall asleep. Her mind was racing and she cradled the Desert Eagle in her hand before placing it within reach on the nightstand again.

She stared at the ceiling for half an hour before giving up and going to the window, looking out at the vast property. She could see one of the barns from her room. There were so many shadows where an army could hide, and she wouldn’t see them coming.

The Sawyer family probably knew the area and this farm pretty well, and they would use it to their advantage when they came back for a fight.

Now more than ever, Darlene wished she’d never left Maine. Why had she been so selfish and impulsive? Right now, she’d be safe in her own bed and in her own home.

She hoped.

What if this craziness was happening in New England? Pheebz had watched the news on and off but didn’t offer a play by play to Herbert. It was all so depressing, and they had their own problems close to home right now. No use in worrying about Los Angeles or New York when they were in danger right here.

Darlene went back to the bed, but she couldn’t get comfortable, She was restless. She felt like she was being watched and found herself at the window again.

She decided she’d slip to the kitchen and get something to drink. Maybe take over guarding the house or walk the property in case they came back. She needed something to do besides stare at the ceiling. Her mind was racing with so many thoughts.

When she opened the bedroom door, she wasn’t surprised to hear the television on and the couple talking quietly in the living room with the lights out.

Darlene made sure she made enough noise as she walked through the hall so Herbert didn’t shoot her. When she cleared her throat and walked into the living room, both Herbert and Pheebz had pistols drawn.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“Turn it off,” Herbert said to Pheebz.

Darlene looked at the television but only caught a brief glimpse of something burning before the picture blinked off.

Only the small nightlight near the end table gave them anything to see by now.

“We need to tell her,” Pheebz said, then turned on the lamp next to her. She looked at Darlene and frowned. “Come sit down.”

“This is not a good idea,” Herbert said.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Darlene said as she sat down on the couch. She was exhausted but knew she’d get no sleep tonight. Especially if there was more bad news. “You can’t keep bad news from me.”

Herbert nodded. “I’m sorry, Darlene. It’s just...I consider you like our daughter. I want to protect you, even though we just met. I know you’re good people, and to be honest, I don’t want you to break down when you see what we’ve been watching. Can you understand that?”

Darlene smiled. “I thank you for the concern. I’m quite fond of both of you, and it isn’t just the situation we’re in right now. But I’m not a little girl, and I’m really not happy to know you’re keeping stuff from me.” She remained calm because she was really pissed off right now. Who did they think they were? She wasn’t their daughter. She had a dad—well, she’d had one—and now she wanted to leave. Maybe she’d take off at first light and try to get back to Maine. She didn’t want to feel like a prisoner or have them keep information from her like she was a child.

“I told you,” Pheebz yelled. She waved a finger at her husband. “She’s not a little kid. She isn’t Susie.” Pheebz began to cry and rushed out of the room.

Darlene stared at Herbert as she heard a bedroom door slam.

Herbert looked like he was going to cry. He picked up the rifle near his chair and pointed at the couch with his free hand. “There’s the remote control for the television. It doesn’t matter what channel, they’re all running it.”

Darlene didn’t move. She watched him walk back outside onto the porch.

She felt horrible. She’d walked into their private conversation. Now Pheebz was upset at Herbert, and he was probably mad at Darlene.

Her first reaction was to get up and slink back into the bedroom to try once again to sleep. As she stood, she saw the remote control and picked it up.

Darlene glanced at the television and back to the remote. If she turned on the TV, what would she see? Whatever it was, she wouldn’t be able to un-see it and it was obviously something the couple thought would upset her.

She sighed and sat back down on the couch, aiming the remote control at the television, praying things weren’t as horrible as the couple led her to suspect. As soon as the picture came on, she saw a shot from above, a news chopper filming live over a large metropolitan area. A city was burning.

Tall buildings threatened to topple, and she could see abandoned cars and even bodies on the streets below. Every third structure seemed to be ablaze.

The news scrolling underneath the live shot talked about another terrorist attack on Boston, but details were sketchy.

Boston had been attacked.

Darlene put her hand to her mouth. She had so much family in and around Boston. Was this possible? Were they all dead? Was her aunt gone?

She tried to use her cell phone to call, not caring what time it was, but she couldn’t get a signal. Darlene went into the other room and found the house phone. She dialed her aunt’s number, but it wouldn’t connect.

Darlene dialed every number she could remember in Massachusetts and Maine, but the lines were all down. She guessed with the attack the cell phone towers had been compromised or destroyed, and all calls to New England would be unable to connect.

This isn’t happening, she thought.

She went back to the couch and surfed through the channels, trying to find more news about New England. She needed to know if Maine had been part of the offensive. No one seemed to know who’d been behind these attacks on America.

Too many people were taking credit for it, and the news anchors were spewing forth unfounded facts at an alarming rate. No matter which channel she stopped on, everyone had their own opinion. When had the news become a game of ratings and one-upping the other channel? Every news agency had Exclusive and Seen Here First scrolling across every spot they could jam it on the screen.

Now Darlene was getting mad. From the looks of more than a few stations, it seemed like there hadn’t been an actual new story in hours. Boston had been attacked ten hours ago, but there was nothing else to report.

Every channel had live talking heads holding microphones with a burning or ruined building behind them, but none of them could say how the attack had come in or anything useful.

Frustrated, Darlene turned off the television and cried.

Life as she knew it had changed. There was no more home to go back to, was there? If Boston had been attacked, maybe parts of Maine had been as well. One of the newscasters had briefly touched on unconfirmed reports of a small invasion force landing near the Canadian border. Was it even possible?

Darlene stood and wiped her tears, but she couldn’t stop crying.

She went to the front door and was about to join Herbert when she heard the man sobbing on the porch. It made Darlene cry even more. She walked away quickly so she didn’t embarrass him.

When she got down the hallway and was about to enter her bedroom, she could hear Pheebz crying as well.

The three of them were a mess right now, and Darlene was glad they all had a private space and were away from one another to mourn for whatever they were crying about in peace.

Darlene threw herself on the bed and cried into her pillow. She cried for her dad and her family in New England. The life she’d left behind forever. The unknown that was about to befall her. Fear of the Sawyer family and what they were capable of doing. She sobbed for Herbert and Pheebz, who had taken her in and were too kind to have to deal with this at this point in their lives.

Darlene wanted to scream and throw things around the room and wail until her throat was raw. If she was home alone she might have given in, but she willed herself to relax.

She turned onto her back and stared at the dark ceiling again, knowing this would be a nightly thing while she tried to sleep, that this would likely be the last bedroom she was ever in, since the home her parents had built was probably gone.

Their American Dream was over. Looted and/or burned to the ground. Every last nickel her mom and dad had saved to build the house so Darlene could have a better life was gone.

Darlene rolled over and buried her face in the pillow again as another wave of sobbing began.

Chapter Eleven

Day 3 I-70

Someone was knocking on the front door. Darlene rose with a start and gripped her Desert Eagle. At some point, she’d fallen asleep, but it felt like she’d only closed her eyes a minute ago.

She went into the hallway. Why hadn’t Herbert awakened her to take a shift to watch for trouble? She didn’t know what time it was, but it was still dark outside. She wondered if this night was ever going to end.

Pheebz was standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, trying her best to smile. “Rosemary and the boys are here. I just made another pot of coffee.”

She looked like she’d also cried herself to sleep last night. Darlene glanced at the clock on the wall. It was closing in on six a.m., and she knew she’d only slept for a couple of hours.

Herbert led two young boys, perhaps ten years old, into the kitchen. He pointed at the kitchen table without a word, but the look on his face told everyone he wasn’t playing.

“Can I get you boys something to eat?” Pheebz asked.

They both stared at Darlene. Both boys looked tired and half-asleep.

“Who do we have here?”

Darlene couldn’t help but see Rosemary, who was wearing a bright purple jumpsuit with a large, red-rimmed sunhat. Her pink reading glasses were hanging from her neon yellow chain, and she wore pink house slippers on her feet.

The woman laughed. “Holy Mother of God, she looks just like Susie,” Rosemary said.

“Sis, I am warning you. Shut up,” Herbert said.

Rosemary waved a hand at her brother but continued to stare. “What’s your name, darling?”

“Darlene.”

“Darlene—darling. How cute is that?” Rosemary glanced at her two boys sitting quietly at the table. “I hope you two are going to be well-behaved, unlike last time.” She looked back up at Darlene. “There was a little incident.”

“They tried to burn down my barn,” Herbert said, anger in his voice. “You swore you’d pay me for the damages, too.”

Rosemary shrugged. “It’s too late now. Besides, I stuffed my car with food and jugs of rainwater. That should be payment enough.”

“Rainwater?” Pheebz asked.

“I’m not going to use the tap in my house. The government fills it with all kinds of bad things. Lead and poisons. I’m not going to be controlled by them, so I collect my own water and purify it myself,” Rosemary said.

Pheebz took down a box of Cheerios from the cabinet.

“Oh, the boys can’t eat any of that poisonous processed garbage. I brought them a container with their breakfast.”

“More for me,” Herbert said.

Darlene could see how uncomfortable he was having his sister in the house. Although so far, she just seemed eccentric, her kids too exhausted to be the handful Darlene knew they were going to be.

“The boys and I are on a regimented eating structure. I’ll need three shelves in the refrigerator for my things,” Rosemary said.

“No. There isn’t enough room already. I told you to bring canned goods and bottled water, not prepare food for the weekend. Unless you’re planning on going home anytime soon, I suggest you do a quick inventory of your car and not waste my time bringing in weird food,” Herbert said.

“It isn’t weird. It’s healthy. Vegan food is delicious,” Rosemary said. “I prepared meals for the next week for all of us.”

“I don’t eat tofu,” Herbert said. “Last time you were here, you made me grill every last piece of meat I had because you were on some other silly diet.”

Rosemary sat down at the table. “I’m a vegan. I only grow my own food now, too. You’ll need to plant some vegetables. Lord knows you have enough wasted room on the farm for it. The boys and I only have enough food for a couple of weeks.”

“Then in two weeks you’ll either starve or eat my poisonous processed garbage. I can’t plant a magical crop for you to start eating tomorrow, and even if I could…” Herbert closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “You know, this is so like you. The world is coming unglued around us, and you’re on some new fad lifestyle again. Those poor boys. No wonder they’re so out of control.”

“They haven’t said a word, have they?” Rosemary answered, looking down at her nails. “And this is not a fad. This is my new life. A better life, free from government interaction and their mind control.”

“Did you say mind control?” Herbert shook his head and looked at his wife. “I’m begging you to go get some help when this is back to normal. Real help, not some backwoods country lunatic in a trailer out by the highway. An actual hospital with real medicine.”

“I took real medicine for years and it only made me sad,” Rosemary said.

“You took it for a month, decided you were cured of your multiple problems, and ran away,” Pheebz said quietly.

Growing uncomfortable eavesdropping on this family squabble, Darlene slipped out of the kitchen and went outside to the front porch.

As if what Rosemary was saying wasn’t out-there enough, she was driving a weathered Volkswagen Bus that looked like a movie prop from Easy Rider.

Darlene scanned the driveway down and out of sight, but there was no one else out here as far as she could tell. Of course, with all the trees on the property, especially in front, anyone could sneak up and get close to the house. Too close.

She wondered if Herbert had a pair of good chainsaws. It would be sloppy, but they could cut down the sight lines with a couple of hours of solid chainsaw action. Darlene had never actually used one and thought it would be fun.

Her eyes went back to the VW. She was expecting it to be overflowing with bags and boxes, but it looked empty. Darlene could hear everyone inside still engaged in a heated debate. She walked to the vehicle and peered inside the big windows.

There were three duffle bags and two large boxes in the back and nothing else.

Darlene knew Herbert was going to lose his mind when he saw how unprepared his sister was. She had no idea what was happening and what was in store for any of them.

The front door opened and both of the brothers came out and went directly to the VW, opening the door.

“Hey, guys, I’m Darlene,” she said awkwardly. Both boys were staring at her. They were like little robots.

They both said “ma’am” at the same time but nothing else, taking the duffle bags and box out of the vehicle.

“Need some help?” Darlene asked. She still didn’t know their names, and she had a hard time telling them apart except for the different clothes they were wearing. Luckily, as crazy as Rosemary seemed to be, at least she wasn’t dressing her kids in matching outfits.

“We got it, ma’am,” one of the boys said as he walked past her and up the steps.

The other brother smiled sheepishly at Darlene but looked away when she met his smile.

Darlene sat down on a chair and sighed. It was so beautiful on the farm. The air was clean and so peaceful. She hadn’t grown up in the big city by any stretch, but this felt like God’s country, a description she’d never understood until this moment.

With Boston under attack and her unable to reach any family on the other side of the country, Darlene knew she needed to make the most of what she had right now. She was safe and had food and power. People who would protect her. Even with the unknown threats of nuclear war and the even closer Sawyer family, she was still better off staying put.

The front door opened and Pheebz walked out, taking the seat next to Darlene.

“Any chance you have a cigarette?” Pheebz asked, looking at the driveway.

“I don’t smoke.”

“I haven’t in years. Herbert would kill me if he knew I was even asking you,” Pheebz said.

Herbert began yelling inside.

“I’m guessing the three duffle bags and box weren’t enough supplies to make a dent,” Darlene said.

“The food she brought amounts to some dried fruits and veggies. I feel sorry for the twins. They’re so wild because they never know what she’s going to put them through each week. Heck, each day sometimes. Rosemary should’ve never had children. They do say the Lord works in mysterious ways, and this might be one of the bigger times,” Pheebz said.

Darlene wanted to ask about Susie but bit her tongue. It wasn’t her place to bring up something they didn’t want to talk about. Instead, she changed the subject. “How long have you and Herbert been married?”

“Some days it seems like a week.” She grinned. “Most days it feels like we’ve been together a hundred years,” Pheebz said and laughed. “I love the man to death, and he loves me right back, no matter how much we disagree and fight at times. Two stubborn people should never get married. Thirty some odd years later, we keep telling ourselves that same thing.”

Rosemary came storming out the front door, her twins gripped in each arm dragging behind her. She stopped on the top step and glared at Pheebz.

“Do you know what your husband did?”

Pheebz winked at Darlene. “Go back inside, Rosemary. You’re not leaving and you know it. You do this every visit.”

“This time it’s different. My brother insulted me. Made fun of my lifestyle and said it wouldn’t last another week. He doesn’t know his own flesh and blood,” Rosemary said.

“Go back inside and pout for a while,” Pheebz said. “Herbert is under a lot of stress right now. We have six mouths to feed and the Sawyers are sniffing around looking for a weakness. He’s probably worried there isn’t enough food for everyone since you brought twigs and dirt with you.”

Rosemary looked even more annoyed now and began wagging her finger, releasing one of the boys. “How dare you. Wait until your precious processed meats and cheeses go bad or you run out. You’ll be begging me to share some of my food.”

“It isn’t food, Rosemary. I saw it. You’re going to starve those poor boys. No wonder they have no strength. They just sit and stare into space,” Pheebz said.

Rosemary shook her head. “My boys are fine. Always have been. My brother needs to stop trying to meddle in my affairs.”

Pheebz stood and pointed her own finger. “He’d do it if you’d stop involving everyone in whatever your next harebrained scheme was. And you called him yesterday. Remember? You swore you’d be over with plenty of food for everyone. He stressed it. I don’t see your guns, either.”

Rosemary looked away. “I gave them away. I...I don’t believe in violence.”

Pheebz turned and grinned at Darlene, shaking her head. “This from a woman who once shot a man for trying to look up her skirt. Then had the nerve to flirt with the judge so much she got off with a warning.”

“That is not how it happened,” Rosemary said defensively. “It was self-defense. I thought my life was in danger.”

“Well, I’ve kept my mouth shut for too long, Rosemary. You drive my husband crazy, and it stops right here.” Pheebz waved her hand. “Go. Leave if you want to. No one is going to beg you anymore to stay.”

“Fine. Boys, go get our bags and food. We’re leaving.”

Herbert opened the door and dropped the duffle bags and the box on the porch, patting both boys on the head but not saying a word.

“Less food for you,” Rosemary said.

“Actually, a lot more for us. You’ll run out of berries in a week if you’re lucky. We have enough food to last awhile, plus fruit trees all over the property. The blackberry and strawberry bushes will yield quite a bit for the three of us. In fact, I just found a wild blueberry patch last week. I was fixin’ to bake a nice pie to eat,” Pheebz said.

Darlene could see the twins pass a look back and forth. The poor little guys were hungry for real food. She hoped Rosemary would come to her senses sooner than later and feed them.

“Well, you enjoy your processed foods and your junk food and your cancer-causing soda. I’m going back home after a trip to the health food store,” Rosemary said.

She grabbed the boys again and went to the VW Bus, nearly tossing them inside. She stormed around the front of the vehicle, looking over to make sure all eyes were on her.

Herbert came out and sat down in the chair Pheebz had been sitting in, waving to his sister as he did.

“I’ll leave,” Rosemary said.

“You’ll get a few miles before you see how silly you’re being. If you drive away, you can only come back under my rules. My house, you know. Those boys are my nephews and I have a say in how you’re treating them and yourself, Rosemary. You need help,” Herbert said.

“Go to bloody Hell.” Rosemary climbed into the car and drove away. She floored it down the dirt drive, kicking up dirt and dust.

“She’ll be back before dinner,” Pheebz said.

“I give her until lunch,” Herbert said.

Darlene laughed. “After lunch but before dinner.”

“Losers do dishes for the next week,” Pheebz said.

“You’re the real winner. Even if you lose. You do them every day,” Herbert said.

Chapter Twelve

Day 3 I-70

The red barn was in the best shape of all the non-house buildings on the vast property, but it wasn’t a secure structure by any stretch of the imagination. The fact that it was close to the main house helped, but they didn’t have enough people who could shoot a gun to defend more than the home.

Herbert was staring at the barn when Darlene finally got off the three-wheeler and walked up. She was exhausted and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said to Herbert.

He looked at her and smiled before looking back to the house. “Are those brats still inside?”

“That’s mean,” Darlene said, only half-joking. Pheebz had won the bet. Rosemary had pulled up only an hour later and apologized for what she’d said, hugging everyone including Darlene.

The rest of the day had been uneventful. Darlene and Herbert tossed ideas back and forth and drove the property in his pickup truck to make sure everything was still in place.

They’d all had a quiet dinner. Rosemary ate her vegan food with the boys, who didn’t look too happy. Bedtime came early for all of them, and that night Herbert let Darlene have a shift on the porch.

Today was so far so good with the boys. They weren’t allowed to watch evil television, so they were forced to sit and read books on the couch. Darlene didn’t know how long it would last, and she felt sorry for them.

“Mean. You think I’m mean? This visit they’re not allowed to do a damn thing but sit like they were in a cult. The last time they were over, my damned sister told me they had no rules. No rules! Anything and everything they did was part of ‘the learning process.’ They had no bedtime, ate everything they found, and could touch and do whatever they wanted. I finally had to restrain them when the green barn was torched,” Herbert said.

“How many barns do you have again? Every one is a different color?”

“Several barns on this property. There used to be multiple homes a long time ago, but the homeowners moved and sold their portions to my grandfather. He tore down the houses for fields but kept the barns so he’d have somewhere close to each for storage.”

Darlene sighed. “Now you could hide a small army in each and we’d never know.”

“I think we might need to tear them down, or at least empty them. No use in leaving good supplies in a barn we can’t defend,” Herbert said.

“Do we have room for all of it?” Darlene asked.

Herbert shook his head. “Not even close. I’m a bit of a pack rat, but most of the things I hold onto are worth something. Especially now. The problem is also going to be my damn sister and her kids will want the extra two bedrooms permanently.” He stared at Darlene.

“Which means I’ll be sleeping on the couch,” Darlene said, finishing the thought.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault,” she added quickly. “Just a lot of people jammed into one house that was probably too big for you and Pheebz.”

“Once Susie...” Herbert stopped talking and began walking toward the red barn.

Darlene gave him his space to work out whatever it was he was still dealing with. There was no way she was going to pry. Obviously, Susie was their daughter who’d passed away somehow.

“Are you coming? We got work to do,” Herbert yelled without looking back.

Darlene followed Herbert into the barn and marveled at all the stuff he had packed into it. Three riding mowers, a wall of various chainsaws, weed trimmers and leaf blowers adorned one side. The back wall was overflowing with tools and toolboxes, all stacked neatly and taller than Darlene.

“What’s under the tarps?” Darlene asked.

The other side had large objects covered. She counted at least six, although some tarps were covering over two or three items.

“My vintage car collection, although it’s mostly rust. One day I was going to refurbish a few Mustangs and other muscle cars, but old age got in the way. I just never got rid of them, and if they stay covered, I can make pretend I’m still young enough to do the work,” Herbert said.

“You really are a hoarder,” Darlene said.

“I wish I wasn’t, especially the cars. This is prime real estate for us right now. I thought having them in the closest barn would force me to work on them. I never did. And you want to hear something dumb? The farthest barn has all my woodworking materials which I use all the time. I’ve replaced most of the fences over the years myself. I bet you there are three hundred slats piled up and ready to go.”

Darlene laughed. “Then we might need to put them to good use. I was thinking we needed to cut down the trees in front of the house so we could see who is coming up the driveway.”

“Good idea. We can start it in the next couple of days. What I think we really need to do is make sure the main gate to the property is secure. I have some padlocks we can use. A shot from a gun will take it out, but hopefully, we’ll hear it. Let’s take a ride.”

They rode to the front of the property and Darlene looked up and down the road, but there was no traffic in sight. Even though it was a side street, Herbert had the only house on it for half a mile in either direction.

Fields directly across the street were nice, offering a rolling sightline for miles since nothing was planted as far as Darlene could tell. But just down the road, on either side, was covered in trees and brush, and anyone could use it to monitor the property.

The gate to the land was rusting, the metal taking a beating in the California heat. The fence itself was nothing more than decoration, white slats spaced eighteen inches apart to give the look, but not the support, of a barrier.

“We have some work to do,” Herbert said. “A padlock isn’t going to stop anyone. We need to get the slats out and fortify this a little better.”

“A little?” Darlene asked. She thought it might be a lost cause. The only way to keep anyone off the property would be by building a wall around it. They didn’t have the bricks, the time, or the manpower to do anything significant.

“I’m not even sure if I can close the gate at this point, either.” Herbert squatted at the side of the drive. “It’s buried in the ground in spots. Heck, I bet this gate hasn’t been closed in twenty years. I guess we could dig it out today and at least close it, but that will only make the Sawyer brothers crash through the wooden fence.”

“I think we should worry about this later. We need to take stock of what we have, and all the weapons and canned food you say you have hidden on the land needs to be accounted for. We should pull everything we can into the main house,” Darlene said.

“Unfortunately, the main house isn’t big enough for the people we have in it right now. And those bedrooms are better served for stock and not kids and my damn sister,” Herbert said.

Darlene shrugged. She could see how mad he was getting and needed him to relax. It was too hot outside, and they needed to stop wasting time. “It is what it is, right? We can’t change everything, but we can change some things. I’d put Rosemary and the boys in one room and we can fill the other guest room with supplies. Same with the living room, which is huge. You don’t even use half of it, and the office as well.”

“The walk-in closet in my bedroom would be a good spot, too. We can fortify it in case we get trapped in the house,” Herbert said. Now he was smiling, looking across the street; Darlene could see his wheels turning. She just needed to keep the old man focused.

“We should get an idea of the ammo and weapons we have, too. Hopefully, we’ll never have to use them,” Darlene said.

“I know the Sawyer family. We’ll use ‘em. I just hope we have enough food to last. Adding three more mouths has screwed up how long I thought we could survive. And if we get any more friends or family or even good strangers in, we’ll really be screwed.” Herbert frowned. “Especially if they bring a box of twigs with them.”

“Would a trip to town be a bad thing?” Darlene asked. She hadn’t really seen too much of the area, driving through it quickly when she thought she was leaving. She didn’t really know what the town consisted of.

Herbert shook his head. “I don’t want to take a chance. With so many vehicles driving through, especially when this all started, I doubt there’s much left of town. If there is, guarantee a local has a rifle and will use it first and ask questions later. We’re used to predators coming down from the hills or through the desert. We’re all carrying a gun this far out. I just hope the friends I had are alive and still remember my face. You remember what happened to my gas station? That might be what has happened to everyone.”

“What about close neighbors?”

“What about them?” Herbert asked after pausing a moment.

“Are they potential allies or enemies? I think we need to know where we stand. If they also hate the Sawyer family, maybe we can band together. Watch the road. Help one another out,” Darlene said. There was definitely going to be strength in numbers.

“That’s a great idea. When we head back past the house, I’ll have Pheebz make some calls. She’s a lot friendlier than I am. I can’t be bothered with most. I just smile and nod pleasantly when they come in for gas. It’s much easier that way. I don’t want to know anyone else’s business if I can help it.”

“Sound advice,” Darlene said. They headed back to the house, and Darlene sat on her three-wheeler while Herbert went inside.

The twins were standing next to the VW, kicking at the rocks at their feet.

“What’s up, guys?”

They both looked at Darlene when she asked the question, but neither responded.

Darlene glanced at the house. No one was in sight.

“You two do speak, right? You haven’t been attacked by a giant cat, who got your tongue?”

They both chuckled but didn’t say a word.

“Don’t you two have a ball or something you can play catch with? I thought I saw a tennis ball near the red barn,” Darlene said.

One of the twins looked at the house before turning to Darlene. “We’re not allowed near the barns or away from the front of the house where my mom can see us. She said if we weren’t quiet, Uncle Herb would send us away.”

“Shut up, Aiden.”

Darlene felt bad. There was so much more going on but she didn’t want to pry. She knew when she got Herbert alone she’d tell him, although then maybe the boys would get in trouble for opening their mouths.

Herbert came back outside, stared awkwardly at the boys before waving at them, and led Darlene back around the house and down to the far fence, skirting the area by following the natural path surrounding the perimeter.

When they got to the copse of trees to the north of the property, Herbert stopped and shut off the engine of his three-wheeler. He pointed at a tree stand farther into the woods, which Darlene hadn’t noticed. There was an even higher platform, too.

“If we had enough people we could put someone up there. You can see this entire side of the property as well as the stream and anything coming up over the hill.”

“Anyone who knows the area would know to come around this way, I would think,” Darlene said. It made sense to her. She climbed to the top and stared out over the property, only a couple of higher trees blocked the view. She could see for miles, and she made note of the houses she saw and anything else for future use. She was getting into the mindset of defending this land from anyone who tried to take it from them.

She looked down at Herbert and gave him a thumbs up, but it didn’t really matter right now. They only had two people to watch over the entire property at night.

During the daytime, she thought, as well. In the far distance, she could see a line of cars. They were either bumper-to-bumper or abandoned. If those people weren’t able to keep going in their vehicles, they might be on foot. Looking for somewhere to stay or a place to hole up until this all blew over. If it ever did.

By the time Darlene climbed down, she was even sweatier than before. She wiped the dirt and sweat from her face, glad her hair was pulled back.

“We’ll knock off the little stuff today before dinner, but I think we need a real game plan,” Herbert said. He shook his head. He looked tired and worn out already, and they hadn’t been doing anything strenuous today.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded. “I’m too old for this. Sometimes I wonder why I try so hard to hold onto this place.”

“Because of the woman inside who loves you,” Darlene said.

“If I was smart, I would’ve put her on a bus and sent her to Florida to live with her brother and his family. Got her away from this mess.”

Darlene laughed. “You think this is only happening in California? We already know the country is a mess everywhere. Boston is...gone? Who knows? I don’t think anywhere is safe right now. Hopefully the rest of the world is watching and will help us. I can’t imagine too many more days going by without our allies sending over troops and supplies to get us back in order. I guarantee our troops overseas are being pulled back and the National Guard activated as well. This isn’t a movie. This is real, and our government has a plan in place.”

Herbert stared at her for a long time before finally nodding his head slowly. “I really hope so.”

Chapter Thirteen

Day 12 - NYC - July 14th

“You ready for your date?”

“I thought for sure you’d forgotten about me.”

“Put your hands through the slot.” Tynes smiled as he produced the handcuffs.

“Really, man? You’re worried about little old me beating my way to freedom or something?”

“Policy. Just be glad I don’t do them behind your back.”

“Nice of you to finally check in on me. Have you seen the dregs I’ve been placed with? It’s a good thing I’m not dead.”

“Pembroke’s symbol should have kept you safe enough.”

“Oh, you knew about that?”

“I know more than you think I do.”

“Oh yeah? What do you think I think of you right about now?”

“There are censorship laws that prevent me from saying those kinds of things out in public.”

“Damn, you are good.”

Tynes opened the cell and began to escort Mike out of the station.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“With you?”

“No, like, in general.”

“No one has taken responsibility for the nuke in Wyoming. An extremist terrorist group based in Syria has said they detonated the two bombs here in the city, but their claims have no credibility. You can say you ‘told me so’ about the volcano.”

“I’m surprised it held out for as long as it did.”

“Almost too long; those people that had evacuated were starting to come back to their homes. A week is a long time to be uprooted. There was a run on most stores, huge lines. Looked like Russia back in the eighties.”

“How old do you think I am?”

Tynes ignored Mike’s comment. “Most places got cleaned out, some closed their doors; others were looted.”

“I fucking told you, man.”

Tynes nodded. “The computer models regarding the ash were mostly right about its path. They were, thankfully, a little off on the volume. But millions have already died from the initial blast and they expect more over the next few months from fallout, dust pollution, and crop failure.”

“And putting me in jail is going to rectify this somehow?”

“I should have known. It all comes back to you, doesn’t it?”

“I’m a narcissist, man. Who the hell else is it going to come back to?”

“The government has said they want things to run as smooth as possible as we ‘transition past this most difficult of times.’”

“Wow, talk about towing the party line. Of course that’s what they’re going to say. They’re trying to get all their little ducks in a row. Activating the National Guard and getting all our troops from overseas is going to take time. Can’t collect taxes if anarchy sweeps the nation.”

“A conspiracy theorist too? You should add that to your resume. Listen, things are a little tenser out there right now—”

“Tense? That’s rich, I’ve seen some of the guys the cops have brought in lately. They said they’re happy to be here, that it’s safer. And I’m not talking about shoplifters, man, I’m talking hardcore criminals, so you keep turning your blind eye if it makes you feel better. If I were you, I’d go grab your wife and get the hell out of here.”

“That a threat?” Tynes smacked Mike’s head as he pushed him into the cruiser.

“Fuck, man. No, it’s not a threat,” he said as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m just saying—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t just say. That kind of shit can be hazardous to your health.”

“Yeah, apparently. Just trying to help a brother out. Shit. I wonder what the judge is going to say when he sees a big old knot on my noggin.”

“Probably going to wonder why it took someone so long to put it there.”

They were less than a mile from their destination when the cruiser violently spun to the side as the rear end was t-boned by a much heavier, old Checker Marathon that at one time had been a taxicab, somehow doing nearly eighty on the traffic-packed roadway. Tynes’ car spun nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, the tires screeching wildly as they protested their sideways skid. The passenger side smacked a utility pole with a ruining crash of shattering glass and twisting metal, the collision causing the pine-tar-pitched wood to snap with a sound like a shotgun blast. The side of the car had stove-piped, almost fully encasing the splintered stump in a cocoon of metal and plastic, its fallen power lines hitting the street like spilled intestines.

A horn blared in the distance; Mike could barely make it out, as if it were being sounded by a lighthouse in a dense fog some miles away. And, like a ship attempting to return to safe harbor, Mike brushed the cobwebs from his mind, using the bleating horn as a reference point.

“What…what the hell happened?” Mike looked down at the pile of shattered safety glass in his lap. “Why am I wearing bracelets?” He moved his hands up so he could see the handcuffs. Slowly at first, and then in a rush, it came back to him. “Tynes. Yo, Tynes, you all right?”

The large cop was slouched over and to the side, his head resting on the huge broken pole that was now firmly entrenched where his partner would have been if cops still rode double.

“Tynes. Come on, man.” Mike grabbed the back of the front seat and shook it. Nothing, not so much as a grimace. “Fuck man. Help!” Mike shouted to the people that were streaming by. Even for New York, the apathy they displayed was overwhelming. People too lost in their own grief and sense of impending doom did little more than give a cursory glance as they went about trying to preserve their own lives.

Mike stuck his head out the destroyed window and gave one more shout, hoping that there was at least one decent person still out there. He was rewarded with a shower of sparks from the transformer suspended over his head. It swayed as the heavy cables that held it up struggled to do so without the added support.

“Are you kidding me? None of you fine upstanding citizens is going to help?”

“Fuck you, buddy. If you were so upstanding, you wouldn’t be in the back of that car,” a man dressed in a rumpled, yet expensive Armani suit said as he quickly passed by.

“Fair point. You’re still a dick!”

The man flipped the bird over his shoulder.

Mike began to kick the seat. “Get the fuck up, man. I’ve got a bad feeling this day is going to get a lot hotter. And I ain’t talking weather here.” A portion of the heavy metal cage that separated the front from the back of the vehicle was rolled over and down. There was a gap almost a foot across from the pole to the bent steel. Mike reached through and shook Tynes. Still nothing. He got the distinct impression the man was still alive, but he was unable to tell just how injured he was. A glint of sunlight shone off the clasp attached to the officer’s left hip pocket. It was a round disk with a retractable metal cord, which Mike was sure had a key ring attached to it with, most likely, handcuff keys.

“This sucks.” Mike was wriggling himself through the opening. His upper torso was mostly through as he did his best not to cut open his stomach on the sharp-edged protrusions the cage had produced. His side throbbed as he bent at an unnatural angle reaching for the pocket. His face was uncomfortably close to the officer’s. An irrational fear struck Mike that if Officer Tynes awoke as a zombie, he would easily be able to tear through the flesh on his mug.

“Now that would suck...can’t imagine having your face ripped off. Good thing I got the keys,” he said triumphantly as he lunged and pulled the clasp free then fell back into the rear seat. There was a small panic as he nearly dropped them. After some fumbling, he manipulated them to the point he was able to unlock his left hand and then quickly his right. “Oh, that feels so good,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. His celebration was short lived as a five-hundred-pound transformer landed on the hood, lifting the rear of the car off the ground for a brief moment. His head banged first against the front seat and then the back before the car settled down under the heavy popping protestations of newly crushed metal.

“Tynes, man, get your ass up. We need to get out of here!” Mike was heading for the smashed out window as electricity crackled along the hood. A reeking odor of gasoline assailed his nose as he first stuck his head out and then his body. He gripped the pole, and climbed all the way out, and put his feet on the ground, right into a growing puddle of fuel.

“This thing is going to go up like a Roman candle.” Mike moved away from the car, but a nagging urge tore through his chest, threatening to crush his heart under its weight. “Fuck you, Officer Tynes,” he said as he ran around the car to the nearly undamaged driver’s side. The door opened with a squeal as the front quarter panel rubbed against it. A loud pop signified when he’d cleared at least that one potential hurdle. The cop’s weight had pulled the seatbelt tight, and Mike had a hard time gaining enough slack to be able to press the release button. When he finally did, the clip shot past his face, rewarding him with a gash across his cheek.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” he said as he wiped the blood on his sleeve. Mike gripped Tynes’ right arm and pulled, but the man barely budged. “What the hell, man. Do you eat bowling balls for breakfast? Fuck it. I tried.” He turned to leave just as a small fire broke out over the hood. “This shit funny to you, God?” Mike cried to the heavens. He turned back around and reached in, grabbing the officer’s duty belt with both hands. When that didn’t work, he placed his feet against the frame of the car and leaned back. At first nothing happened; it was as though Mike was trying to roll a boulder up a hill. Then Mike felt a slight release, and there was a second where he thought perhaps it was himself being stretched, like a prisoner on a medieval torture device, but it was Tynes shifting, finally.

“Come on, you fat bastard!” he shouted as he savagely pulled backward, the blood in his hands cut off as the belt dug deeply into them. Adrenaline kicked in, and at a quarter inch to a tug, Mike figured he’d be done around the same time his body finished cooking. The flame had spread. Golden fingers licked up the face of the cracked windshield, desperately looking for a way in, and for the fuel needed to keep itself alive.

Tynes finally showed some signs of life as he grumbled about the rough treatment he was receiving.

“Yeah, so how’s it feel?” Mike asked through gritted teeth as he continued to yank the man free from the clutches of a car that desperately wanted the officer to go down with the ship.

Tynes let out a hearty grunt as he thudded onto the ground. His eyes, which had been closed, began to flicker. Mike pulled him another twenty feet across the pavement, confident that he was now far enough away should the car become engulfed in flames. Mike thought about just taking off before he noticed a couple of guys about fifty feet away greedily eyeing the car. One was holding what appeared to be a large kitchen knife, the other a butcher blade. The crowd had rapidly dispersed with the onset of imminent trouble.

Why? Why would they…that thing isn’t going anywhere. Then he realized it wasn’t the car they wanted. It was the shotgun that had broken loose from its locking device. “No way, assholes. That’s mine.” Mike sprinted for the car just as one of the men made a break for it. Unless he’s Jesse Owens, I’ve got this. Unless, of course, the stupid thing is stuck, then he’s going to stick me in the ribs with that knife.

“One for the home team,” Mike said as he grabbed the barrel of the twelve-gauge shotgun and pulled it out of the car. He quickly ratcheted a round into the chamber and spun. The man coming at him with the knife quickly veered off.

“Fuck you, honky. I’ll gut you,” the thug threatened.

Mike’s heart was hammering in his chest. He’d been in a fight or two in his life, but it’d always involved fists and generally had regarded a woman. Mike had the distinct impression that, at this very moment, he was fighting for his life, and the shaking barrel only confirmed that for him.

“Take the gun, Y-Dog; he ain’t gonna shoot you,” the man with the butcher blade said, wisely not coming any closer.

“Yeah, Y-Dog. Come and get this gun. I’m not going to shoot you,” Mike said, echoing the other man, hoping his voice wouldn’t break as he said the words.

Y-Dog began to circle to the side, making Mike look back and forth between him and the other man.

“My homies are gonna be here in a minute. Just drop the gun, whitey, and move the fuck away.”

“Homies? Whitey? You’re fucking white too, dumbass.”

“Ooh, he just called you out,” the other man said, putting his non-lethal hand to his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Z-man.”

“Z-man? Y-dog? What are you two idiots doing? Auditioning for Sesame Street?” He was trying to make light of the situation, but the gun was feeling heavier by the minute, and he did not know how much longer he could keep this brave charade up. “Fuck,” he mumbled as another of the threatening gang showed up.

“Stick the cop!” Z-man shouted.

Mike began to move closer toward the downed policeman. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Lookie, I think he’s going to cry,” the newcomer said. “Why don’t you get the fuck out of here?” The man’s smile faded away as he pulled out a small revolver and pointed it in Mike’s direction.

Mike spun and fired. A plume of blood arced out from the man’s chest, the pistol in his hand forgotten as he fell backward, blood coating his t-shirt. He gasped once as his back collided with the sidewalk. His left hand shot up and fell back down just as he took his final ragged breaths, blood pooling in the newly made concave in his torso.

“You…you fucking shot Duckie!” Y-Dog said as he came closer, wildly swinging his knife back and forth. “Do you know who we are?”

And right at that very moment, Mike did. He hadn’t been looking; maybe he should have. But then what? Could he have just turned his back and let them kill the cop? He could not for the life of him imagine what allegiance he had to Tynes. The guy was about to drop his ass in jail, maybe for the next year and a half of his life. And for what? The gangbangers no longer wore their colors on their head—it gave them away too quickly—but a black bandana shoved in a back pocket could only mean one thing, D Street Demons. Notoriously one of the most violent gangs the city had ever known. In fact, they were so vicious they’d either driven out or absorbed almost all their competition.

D Streeters didn’t discriminate between gang members and their families. They believed if you were against them, then so was your entire family, and they would all need to be eradicated. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. They didn’t stop for the very old or the very young. They were as close to animals on two legs as could be. Mike had spent a fair amount of energy avoiding them at all costs, and in one fell swoop, he’d become enemy number one. He could only hope his anonymity would protect him. He had somewhat of a reputation on the streets, but he did not have a large sphere of influence.

“Just get the fuck out of here!” Mike shouted.

“Just gotta get your picture motherfucker,” Y-Dog said as he held up his smart phone and snapped off a series of shots to distribute among the entire gang citywide. The hunt would be on soon enough. “Gonna see you real soon, asshole. Duckie was my boy; we’ve been friends for years. Your death is going to be slow.”

Mike had the gun pointing at Y-Dog’s head, but the man didn’t flinch. Mike applied some pressure to the trigger, his knuckle whitening as he debated between killing the man or letting him go.

“See you soon.” Y-Dog turned and left, Z-man following in tow.

Mike bent at the waist, getting in some heavy breaths as he fought back a rising surge of panic. He’d just made an enemy out of an entire city. Maybe now was a good time to go and make peace with his family. He wondered if Boston would be far enough away.

“Maine, maybe?” he said aloud. “Although who the hell wants to live there besides moose and bears?”

“Mike, put the gun down.”

It took Mike a second to figure out who had said it. He knew Y-Dog would be back, just didn’t figure it would be that quick. When the man shouted “Now!” Mike put the pieces together. Sometime in the last minute, Officer Tynes had woken, saw at least part of what was going on, and now had his service revolver pointed at Mike’s back.

Mike turned slowly.

“Put the fucking gun down, Mike.”

“You still plan on taking me to court?”

“It’s my job. Now put the gun down, or we’re going to have a serious problem.”

“Oh, I think we’re past that point. How much do you know about what is going on?”

“I know there’s a dead man over there, and I’d say it’s fair enough to think you did it with my shotgun.”

“Would it help if I told you that he was planning on killing you?”

Tynes placed his left hand on the ground and began to push himself up. His eyes and his aim never left Mike.

“He’s a D Streeter,” Mike told him.

Officer Tynes took the quickest of looks over to the stiff. That was all he needed. He’d had enough run-ins with the lowlife to know who he was.

“Doesn’t matter, you shot and killed him.”

“Fuck you, Tynes. I could have walked away. They didn’t want me, they wanted your guns and your death. Now me and my whole family are on the hook.”

“Then you’ll be safer in jail.”

“You cannot be that naïve, can you? As soon as they book me, my name becomes public knowledge. Even if by some miracle, I make it out of county and go upstate, how long before a jailed D Streeter sticks a sharpened toothbrush into my throat? I’m not going out like that.”

“I said put the gun down.”

“Not a fucking chance. We can stay here and do this détente shit all day if you want. But sooner rather than later, we’re going to have a hostile audience, and I, for one, don’t want to end the day with my severed penis stuck down my throat while I’m still breathing.”

Officer Tynes was all too familiar with this type of death. It was reserved for the D Streeters’ most hated enemies.

“If you shoot me, Tynes, you’d better kill me, because it would be more humane. Otherwise, I’m getting the fuck out of here.” Mike lowered his rifle, looked around, and began to move away.

“Hold on.”

“I already told you I’m not going with you.”

“Did you pull me out of that?” Tynes pointed to his patrol car that was a burning, smoking, smoldering ruin. The front seat had completely melted down to its spring coils.

“I did, and it wasn’t easy. I think you weigh about five hundred pounds.”

Tynes frowned at him. “And that man was going to kill me?”

“Maybe not Duckie—but Y-Dog wanted to stick you. Duckie was just covering him with that gun over there.”

“Y-Dog was here?”

“Friend of yours?”

“I busted his brother last year. He said he’d get me back sooner or later. He just about had his chance.”

“I strongly suggest you get out of here as well.”

Tynes grabbed his mic off his chest. He went to make a call for back-up until he realized the cord had been neatly severed. “I can’t let you go.”

Mike stopped, barely containing the rage that surged through him. “Will you stop being a fucking asshole cop for just ten fucking seconds and try being a man? I just pulled you from a burning car and then, at great personal fucking risk to everything near and dear to me, I stopped a savage from stabbing you to death. How about a little fucking show of appreciation! A thank you! Something along those lines, I’m not greedy. I’m not going with you, Tynes, not now, not ever. You point that gun at me again, and I will shoot you. I’m in too deep now.”

“You won’t shoot me.”

“You so sure of that?”

“Yes, and exactly for the same reason you just said. You’ve saved my life twice, now. Why throw that all away?”

“You’re welcome. Seems that is going to be as close to a thank you as I’m going to get. I’m leaving. Are you staying to see how many fuckers Y-Dog brings back with him?”

“Where you headed?”

“The garment district. I have friends there.”

Tynes looked over when they heard sirens off in the distance and, almost immediately, the sound of multiple firearms expending rounds.

“Shit went bad a lot faster than I thought it would,” Mike said. “Can you run? Wait, I know you can run, chased my damn ass all over the place. I mean can you now? Are you injured?”

“My head hurts pretty bad, but otherwise…”

“Let’s go.” Mike started off at a trot, hoping to hold on to as much energy as he could. He had a feeling he was going to need it. Parts of New York were already feeling the after-effects of panic; many believed there would be more attacks. Some were still holding fiercely on to normalcy, and as Mike passed holding a shotgun along with a policeman holding a pistol, people couldn’t get out of their way fast enough. Most New Yorkers were content to let the scene go on by; it was four German tourists that had not been able to secure passage home yet who wanted to take matters into their own hands.

They surrounded Mike, putting their arms out to halt his progress so that the officer could get him. They were shouting in German. To Mike, it sounded like they were swearing about him and his as of yet unborn offspring. But for all he knew, they could be asking for directions to the Statue of Liberty.

“I’m a cop, I’m a cop,” Tynes said as caught up.

“Nice of you to show. Thought these bounty hunter wannabes were going to tackle me.”

“Fed, he’s a Fed.” Tynes pointed to Mike. The Germans didn’t move, looking more confused than before. “Spy, he’s a spy.” Tynes tried a different approach.

“Spion?” one of them asked.

“Ja,” Tynes answered, when he figured that was close enough sounding to spy. He hoped he hadn’t just told them Mike was a bank robber.

The Germans closed in and patted Mike on the back. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked.

“No idea. Let’s keep moving. I’m not liking the way this day is going.”

“It could get worse.”

“I know that.”

The closer they got to the infamous garment district, the more the crowds thinned out. Usually, this close to Times Square, and especially this time of day, there was plenty of foot traffic passing by. Today it was looking more and more like a ghost city, and their feelings of unease increased.

Mike pulled up and waited for Tynes, who had once again slowed.

“You look like shit.”

Tynes could only manage a guttural grunt.

“I can’t go to where I want to go with you. They’ll shoot both of us.”

“No…can…do.” Tynes was getting his breath back. “Where you…go, so do I.”

“We’re not playing games here, man. I’m going to talk to some of the seedier underbelly types, and you will not be welcome.”

“I thought you said they were your friends?”

“Business associates, friends, same thing.”

“How do I know you won’t just take off on me?”

“Listen, Detective Sherlock, I’ve been moving at about half speed, and you can’t keep up. If I wanted to lose you, you’d be talking to the wind.”

“I could have shot you as you got away.”

“While we were around people? You would have tried to shoot me? Really? What’s the range of accuracy on your pistol there? Would you be willing to shoot more than fifty feet with pedestrians all around while your head is throbbing and your chest is heaving for air? I’m sure that would make a great recipe for marksmanship. Listen, stone head, for good or bad, we’re in this together for the time being. I’ll get you back to your station, and then we’re done. I’m heading out of state tonight. And if you say you can’t let me go because of the fucking oath or some moral compass you have, then we’re through right now. Good luck trying to get us back in one piece. Your station is right past D Street territory. And I don’t think any of your brothers in blue are going to be coming to the rescue any time soon. Right now, I’m thinking they are hunkering down, coming up with a game plan, or waiting for the National Guard.”

“You just have all the answers, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I have all the fucking answers, that’s why I’m so successful. Listen, the last time we heard sirens, we also heard gunshots. I’m thinking cop open season has started. So, one of two things is going to happen: Either it’s going to get worse or the cops and the military are going to come in and things are really going to get fucked up. Whichever way, I don’t want to be on the streets.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Try to look inconspicuous.”

“Yeah that ought to work.”

“Maybe take your shirt and your belt off. Tuck your gun, and go over to that little Asian souvenir shop. They look like they’re still open. I’ll be right back.” Mike walked off as Officer Tynes thought on his words. He’d always felt invulnerable in his uniform as if it were his super hero costume, impervious to all the evils of the world. This was the first time in his three years on the force he felt it a liability to be donning the blue.

“Fuck,” he said as he stuffed his shirt, duty belt and vest into the nearest mailbox before crossing the street. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, happy to see that it still had some battery life in it. He was notoriously bad at remembering to charge it, and he’d had to suffer the wrath of his wife more than once when she would hear about a shooting on the streets and would then attempt to contact him via his phone only to have it go straight to voicemail.

“Shit.” He’d missed twenty-six calls. He hit redial on his wife’s last attempt. A high-pitched tone and then a recorded voice came over the line.

“All circuits are busy at this time. Please try your call again later.”

“At least she’s in Florida. I’d rather her there with her family than here.” Although, he wasn’t so certain of that. What made Florida inherently safer during a crisis?

“Hey, hey, what do you say?” Juicy said as he watched the door to the Bridgeport Garment Factory. Mike could not figure out how the man had come by that moniker. That was about the last thing you thought about when you looked upon his gaunt, deeply pocked face. The man was six feet five and doubled as a scarecrow in the off-season. His long, jet black hair, his only remarkable feature, was coated back in a thick layer of oil.

“Oh, I get it now. That really shouldn’t have taken me so long to put together,” Mike said as he looked upon the man’s mane and thought about his name.

“Hey man, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Pembroke.”

“Pembroke don’t want to talk to you.”

“What are you talking about? We’re practically family.”

“Word is you were in jail. You wearing a wire?”

Mike slapped Juicy’s hand away when he went to feel his chest.

“Plus, heard you killed a D Streeter. You’re already a dead man. There’s money on your head. If not for Pembroke saying so, I’d be turning you in. That’s as far as your relationship with him is going to go.”

“How can you already know that? It wasn’t more than twenty minutes ago.”

“This is the streets, man. Pembroke knew before you pulled that trigger. Now get fucking lost.”

“Fuck you, Juicy. Let me in.”

Mike froze when he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press up against his temple. “The beauty of the bounty is they don’t give a shit if you’re dead or alive. I always thought you were a little asshole, so this won’t interrupt my sleep at all.”

“I would think the wet pillow would,” Mike said as he raised his hands.

“That’s a nice shotgun you got there. I think I’ll take it.” Mike briefly entertained the thought of crushing his elbow into the already crooked nose of Juicy, but his odds of success were even less than those of getting out of the city without Pembroke’s help.

“That’s enough.” Pembroke had come out of the doorway. He was dressed in a heavy cotton suit, white with black pinstripes, and somehow in the heat of the day he still looked as cool as a cucumber. Come to think of it, Mike could not ever remember a day he’d seen the man sweat.

“Pembroke.” Mike swatted Juicy’s gun out of the way.

“You’ve put me in a delicate situation coming here, Mike.”

“I’m just trying to get out of town.”

“Where’s the cop?” Pembroke lit a cigarette and took a long pull.

“Is my show on fucking TV?”

“I asked you a question, Mike.”

Mike could verbally spar with Tynes, Juicy, and maybe even a few of the D Streeters, but not Pembroke, never Pembroke. If you were square with him and didn’t try to take a little off the top, you were fine and under his umbrella. Run afoul, and there were no second chances.

Mike wanted to lie and say he ditched him, but he was already on thin ice and he had little doubt Pembroke already had a man watching Tynes over on the street.

“I told him to wait for me at Chin’s.”

“What’s he waiting for?” Pembroke seemed more interested with the cherry at the end of his cigarette than with the man before him. Mike knew that look. He’d seen enough scumbags being questioned to know that the disinterest Pembroke showed was an act.

“I was hoping to get a car. I wanted to get him back to his station and me out of town.”

“His station? What’s that cop to you?”

“Really nothing, except a pain in the ass. He’s hauled me in a few times, and this time he chased me halfway around the city before he caught me and threw my ass in jail.”

“That man caught you?”

“I started talking shit to him on the opposite side of a chain link fence, and he fucking tased me. I didn’t figure he’d be able to get his ass over the fence. I was wrong.”

“Help me to understand where in that explanation you feel the need to help him?”

“I don’t know; he has a wife. He cares about my well-being for some reason.”

“Aw, ain’t that nice, the cop is sweet for Mike,” Juicy sneered.

Mike did his best to ignore him. It was that or blow his guts out. He didn’t think Pembroke would appreciate the latter.

“We wrecked his cruiser. A yellow cab crushed it like a tin can. I pulled him out before the car could burn.”

“Why?”

Mike was getting sick of the twenty questions, but if he wanted any hope of help, he’d keep answering. And as long as Pembroke kept asking, that meant he was still interested. It was when he stopped asking that he’d made up his mind and bodies ended up in rivers.

“A lifetime ago, me and two of my friends were in a car accident. I got my buddy out of the back seat, but my best friend Paul, he was wedged in behind the steering wheel. That’s how I got these,” he said as he held up his scarred hands. “I tried to get him out; he fucking burned right in front of me. He looked at me the entire time, and I swear he was accusing me of not trying hard enough. I just couldn’t stand to let another person die that way.”

Pembroke did not reply to the explanation. “The D Streeters are saying you waylaid them. I know you’re not the pointiest stick, but you’re not a cue ball either. What happened?”

“I got the cop out of the car and Y-Dog came up on us with two of his friends. They wanted to kill the cop and take the guns. I’d already risked my life once to save his ass. In for a dime, in for a death.”

“I’m going to miss you, Mike. I’ve got to admit, I was very fond of you.” He nodded to Juicy.

“Wait, wait,” Mike said, but the door was already closing.

“You lucky fuck. I thought for sure he was going to kill you.” Juicy nodded to someone in the second story of the building. Within twenty seconds, a late model Toyota pulled up. “You come back here, and Pembroke gave me the green light to kill you.”

“You got all that from a nod? I have got to learn sign-language.”

“You don’t deserve it, and I have no idea what the boss sees in you, but there’s some money and guns in the trunk. You’re just lucky he hates D Streeters more than you.”

Mike flipped Juicy off as he got in the car. For a moment, he considered just taking off. He knew it was within Tynes’ DNA to still try to take him in.

“Fuck, I hate having a conscience.” He spun the wheel around and headed back to where he’d left the cop. Tynes was nervously pacing up and down the sidewalk, scanning the surrounding area while also hitting redial numerous times.

Mike pulled up. “Want a lift?”

Tynes looked panicked. He peered through the open window. “I can’t get a hold of my wife.”

“Want me to drop you off at your house?” Mike figured if the cop was busy being worried about his spouse, he would be less inclined to try to arrest him.

“She’s not there.”

“Work then?”

“She’s in Florida.”

“Sorry man, this bus isn’t going that far. I’ll get you to your house, and you can go catch a flight or something, then we’re through.”

“Mike.”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking start that shit. If you’re going to try and haul me in, I’m leaving now. Otherwise get the fuck in, and I’ll take you where you need to go.”

“I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh, um, well then, get in.”

“I figured you’d be halfway to Boston by now; rioting seems to be your kind of thing.”

“I’d like to say I didn’t think about it but you’d know I was lying. I heard news of people going nuts down there, not even terrorists. Just stupid people doing stupid things.”

Tynes actually let out a small laugh. “If you just take me to my house, we’re square. I’ll tell the judge you escaped in the wreck but not before saving my life.”

“Square? I don’t think so. I’ve saved your life twice; by Japanese reckoning, the rest of your sorry time on earth is forfeit to me. But if it keeps you from arresting me, then fine. Where do you live?”

“Greenwich Village.”

“Greenwich Village? Are you fucking kidding me? On a cop’s salary? And you’re giving me shit for being a petty criminal? The sheer number of takes you must be on has to be staggering.”

“My wife is a doctor, asshole.”

“Oh, well that makes more sense. So she’s your sugar mama? Why aren’t you just cruising on the couch watching Gilmore Girls reruns or some shit?”

“Do I look like a Gilmore Girls fan to you?”

Mike looked over quickly. “Maybe.” As Mike drove, he could not shake the feeling of a huge, nervous expectancy hanging over the city. At first, he thought it might be his own feelings overlaying his perception, until Tynes spoke.

“Something’s not right. I’ve got that same feeling I had that day right before the Towers were struck.”

“You psychic?”

“No, nothing like that. I didn’t know what was going to happen or how severe. I just had this sense in my gut, like I’d eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I was ten years old. I had no idea what was going on, not until the next morning, when I saw the smoke. When I turned on the television, it hit me—I knew that was what I’d been expecting. It’s like that again, and this time it’s much worse. I don’t think New York is going to be such a good place to be in the next few days.”

“Shouldn’t traffic be worse?” There were cars on the road, but Mike was making good time on freeways that were generally car choked nearly twenty-four hours a day.

“Nuclear bomb detonated on American soil? I’m thinking most people aren’t going to work anymore. Somehow minimum wage means less in a rising crisis.”

They spoke little as they traveled. Tynes faithfully kept hitting redial.

“Fuck, that’s it. My phone is dead.”

“Here, take this one.” Mike grabbed a phone from the center console. Pembroke was nothing if not thorough.

“Is it stolen?”

“Does it matter? It has a charge.”

Tynes dialed in the number. There was a pause. “Linda? Linda is that you? Yeah, my phone died. I know, I know. I should carry an extra battery. Are you all right?” Mike could hear Linda’s animated responses and could almost feel the tension leave Tynes’ body. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m heading home, going to catch a flight. I’m hoping to be down there tomorrow. New York is starting to fall apart at the edges.”

Mike humphed in agreement with that assessment. Mike tried his best to block out the rest of the conversation as it began to revolve around how much they loved and missed each other.

“Come on man, you’re going to get that all over the phone.”

“No one, honey, just a guy I borrowed a phone from.”

Mike mouthed, “No one?” then flipped Tynes off.

“Thank you,” he said a couple of minutes after he handed the phone back.

“She’s all right?”

“She’s fine. She’s at her mother’s house along with two of her brothers. Whew.” He sat back and expelled a big breath.

“This is why I don’t want to get married. Nothing but constant worry.”

“Who has your back then?”

Mike remained silent. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to what Mike could only consider a mini-mansion. “Are you shitting me?”

“Mike, I can’t thank you enough, but I don’t ever want to see you again,” Tynes said as he stepped out of the car.

“Can I see your place?”

“No.”

“At great personal risk, I took you to your house.”

“You now know where I live, and now you know I’m leaving. That was a miscalculation on my part, but I sure as shit am not going to let you get an inventory of my belongings.”

“Oh...that cut me deep, officer. I’m not going to rob you,” Mike said as he stepped out. “Anyway, I really need to take a dump. Probably got gold-plated toilets. I need to see that. What about a bidet? You got one of those fancy toilets that wash your ass?” Mike passed him by and waited on the wide porch for Tynes to catch up.

“Look away,” he said before he entered a code into the door locking mechanism.

“I have a machine that can bypass that lock in under eight seconds.”

“Comforting. Go to the bathroom and then get out. I’m going to pack.”

“Whoa,” Mike said as he entered into the foyer and saw the vaulted ceiling. He looked upon the large, curved stairway that had prints along the wall that he had a fair idea were not reproductions.

“Don’t make me regret letting you in. Go straight down the hallway, and the second door on the left is the bathroom. Shut the damn door when you leave.” Tynes headed for the staircase.

Mike heard the telltale sound of a shower turning on as he bypassed the bathroom and went right for the kitchen. “Bingo,” he said when he opened the refrigerator.

A half hour later, a clean, dressed, and baggage-laden Tynes came down the stairs. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”

Mike was sitting on the couch, a large salami sandwich in one hand and a cold beer in the other. A spilled out bag of chips covered the coffee table.

“I was hungry, man. You at least owed me lunch. Running from gangbangers burns a lot of calories.”

“My wife doesn’t even let me eat on that couch. If she caught you, we’d both get kicked out.” A bead of sweat formed on his forehead as he watched a fat dollop of mustard fall on the heirloom rose brushed suede upholstery. “Dude, I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” Mike turned with a serious expression. One Tynes wasn’t used to seeing on the other’s face.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s Yellowstone, man. They’re talking about millions that died, an oncoming ice age, volcanoes and all that shit. They’re saying there’s too much ash in the airstream now; everything’s gonna die like the dinosaurs. All air traffic has been halted due to the danger of the engines getting clogged. Man, don’t you watch the news? I got more information being inside than you got at your big ass house.”

Tynes dropped his bags. “This better not be some kind of joke.” He strode into the living room.

“Who the fuck jokes about that kind of thing?”

Tynes sat down heavily on the couch to watch the news. He grabbed the beer out of Mike’s hand, took a heavy pull of the cold liquid, and then attempted to hand it back.

“Nah man, you keep it, it’s got cop germs on it now. I don’t want to catch any goodie-two-shoes shit.” He rose to get himself another bottle.

Tynes could suddenly not care less. The ticker on the bottom told him everything Mike had just relayed while the pretty reporter spouted on about the national crisis and that the president was issuing a curfew during this state of emergency. He was recalling all the troops on foreign soil and activating every National Guardsman during these trying times. They showed clips of the president’s speech, and while his words promised a return to normalcy as soon as possible, his mannerisms clearly showed a man on the edge of a panic attack.

The two men sat there another hour, Mike absently taking bites from his sandwich until it was finished. They did not say a word until the pundits just began to repeat themselves.

“What now?” Mike asked.

“You leave, and I drive to Florida.”

“Did you not just see what I saw?”

“I don’t care. I’m a cop; they’ll let me through the blockades.”

“Yeah sure, because the Jersey Guard is going to give a rat’s toot about a New York cop.”

“I’ll get through.”

“I need a place to crash.”

“Yeah, so? Oh no, not here.”

“I can’t get home until they lift the travel ban. I go back on the streets, I’m a dead man.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“There is no way you are forgetting I’m a target because I saved your ass.”

“I could have defended myself.”

“You weren’t even awake. What were you going to do, drool them to death? Who the hell are you kidding?”

“Mike...can I trust you?”

“Sure.”

“No, man, look me in the eyes. Are you a decent person at the core?”

Mike shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the cop’s gaze.

“Yeah man, I think I am. If I give my word, it still carries weight no matter the things I’ve done.”

“I’m leaving. I have got to be with my wife. You stay here, you keep an eye on my place. When you can go, go. I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

“Got an Xbox?”

“Mike.”

“PS4?”

Tynes turned.

“Are you one of those Wii people? I mean, that’s cool. People that have no gamer skills still have to play with something besides their dicks. What do you have? Kid bowling or something?”

“You screw up my kill ratio on Halo, and I don’t give a shit what I said. I will hunt you down.”

“Now we’re talking. Gonna enjoy it here. Maybe I’ll get that bidet installed while you’re gone.”

“I’m still here, I can still kick you out.”

“It’s all good, man. I’m just screwing around. I joke when I’m scared shitless. I’ll take care of this place like it wasn’t mine. That’s a good thing, I promise.”

Tynes grabbed his bags and had one foot out the door.

“Tynes, man.”

The cop turned.

“Good luck. I hope you get to be with your wife.”

Tynes nodded and pulled the door shut.

“Fuck, I thought he’d never leave. I’m still hungry.” Mike headed for the fridge.

The door opened back up. “Where you going?”

“What, man? By the time you get back, your food will be spoiled. I’m just going to do my part to keep your fridge from stinking.”

“One more thing.”

“Yes, Dad?”

“There’s a stray that comes around every so often. Could you leave him out some food?”

“The cop has a heart, who would have thunk it? Is he a big dog?”

“Who said anything about a dog?”

“Rabbit? Bear? Marsupial?”

“It’s a cat.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

“What?”

“I hate cats, man. Gatekeepers to the underworld is my understanding of the little vermin.”

“You feed him, or I’ll let the D Streeters know where they can find you.”

“You’re an asshole. Consider it done, but me and the little pile of pestilence are not going to become chummy. I’m not petting the damn thing.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t let you.”

“So wait. You keep feeding this thing, and he won’t even let you say hi? Typical cat, take, take, take then bite.”

“Mike.”

“I told you I’d take care of the thing. Go, man, stay out of harm’s way. I have a huge sandwich to go make, probably going to finish your beers off as well.”

“Those don’t go bad.”

“Can’t be too safe.” The door slammed so hard the windows rattled in the front entrance.

Chapter Fourteen

Day 13 - July 15th

Mike drifted off to sleep, the sound of sirens far away in the distance. He laughed, thinking that this area probably had an ordinance against that kind of loud noise. He dreamed of nameless, faceless men chasing him, at first through the streets of New York, and then somehow they became zombies, relentlessly pursuing him through an unfamiliar wooded area. This ended with him running through some huge underground bunker that he thought people around him called The Hill. He started awake when he ended up on some alien terrain and the men had given way to something far more dangerous and insidious.

“What? Where the fuck am I?” He sat straight up on the couch. He had the feeling it was the middle of the night. The house was dark and quiet, too quiet. It put him on edge. I’m not fucking alone. His heart started to seize in his chest. He remembered putting the shotgun next to the coffee table on the far side of the room. He got up slowly, waiting for some gangbanger to rush him. He moved quietly, trying his best to decipher the shadows in the corners. He lunged and grabbed the rifle. He pumped a round into the breach. There was not another sound on earth that could put more fear into a man’s heart than that of a shotgun being primed.

“Where the fuck are you!” he shouted. He hesitated turning on a light for fear of giving himself away. How did they find me? Did Tynes let them know? No fucking way. He might be an asshole cop, but he’s not a murderer. Plus, no matter what deal he made with them, they would roll this house down to the studs. He backed up to a corner, trying to cover all angles of approach.

Something brushed up against his leg. His dreams rushed back. “It’s a zombie!” He didn’t know he had his finger in the trigger guard when he reflexively pulled back in fear. Plaster and wood rained down onto the couch he’d just vacated. So much for the brushed suede.

“Fuck!” He tried to jump back but was hampered by the wall. The thing by his feet rubbed up against his calf again. He sidestepped away, knocking over a lamp and a small statue. He kept going until he felt a light switch in the small of his back. He didn’t know if he was more scared or less when the light came on. One of the biggest cats he’d ever seen, even on the National Geographic channel, was looking back at him. The coal black animal sat on his haunches and proceeded to lick its claws. Mike thought they looked more like talons.

Mike’s gaze traveled up from the cat to the newly formed blast hole in the ceiling. “Oh, shit. He is going to kill me.” He was finally distracted from the wound in the plaster when the cat stood, stretched, and yawned, revealing sharp, barb-like teeth. “What am I supposed to feed you, mountain goats?” Mike made a wide turn around the cat and went into the kitchen. He rooted around in the fridge, hoping to come across a whole marlin or something equally as big to keep the beast in the living room happy. “Nothing for a carnivore your size. Maybe the pantry.” Mike opened a doorway that led into a food room that was as big as the bedroom he’d had at his parent’s house. “Holy shit, Tynes! are you preparing for Armageddon?” A whole shelf was dedicated to cans of cat food and treats. “Whoa,” Mike said after grabbing three cans. The cat was at the doorway, its tail swishing back and forth in an agitated manner. “I’m working on it! Shit, you’re huge. You remind me of that panther from the Disney movie. What the hell was his name? Bag … something.”

The cat meowed loudly.

“Fine, your name is Baggie. Let me live, and I’ll put your food in a bowl.” The cat didn’t budge. Mike pressed his back up against the doorjamb and swung around, relieved when he found himself back in the more spacious kitchen. The cat eyed him as he opened up cabinets until he found a bowl. He scraped out all three cans hastily as the cat began to saunter up to him.

“Here.” He put the bowl down and scooted it away with his foot. The cat sank into it greedily. Mike got a small bowl of water and went to put it next to the food. When he did so, the cat looked up and gave a savage hiss.

“Asshat,” he told Baggie as he put the water down and left the kitchen. “How the fuck did that thing get in the house anyway?” His question would have to wait as the lights flickered once, then again, and finally went out. He looked out the window to see that the entire street was now a black canvas with a fiery backdrop. He could see the glow of raging fires somewhere around Times Square.

“How long before that chaos hits here?” People started coming out of their houses, looking around and talking animatedly to each other. “They’re all neighborly now, but in a week these fuckers are going to be at each other’s throats looking for supplies.”

He thought about grabbing the gun, just as a show of strength, but decided against it and headed outside. He walked up to the nearest group. An older man, gray hair at his temples and the strict countenance of a university dean, watched as Mike approached.

“I saw you come from Lawrence and Linda’s house. May I ask where they are and what you are doing there?”

Lawrence? That giant’s first name is Lawrence? Who would have thought it? Mike thought as the man took in his filthy t-shirt and hunter green pants.

“Tynes went to join his wife in Florida.”

“And what are you doing here?”

He wanted to tell the man to fuck off, but he could make trouble for himself that he didn’t need. “We’re cousins on our mother’s side.”

The man looked down his long aristocratic nose at him.

“Ask around. I’m sure one of your snooty, nosy neighbors saw us come here together. Isn’t that what you rich fucks do? Keep an eye out on everybody else’s business? I brought him home, and he decided to try to get to his wife. She’s visiting relatives in Florida. Asked me, no, damn near begged me, to keep an eye on his place while he was gone. Good thing I have all Lawrence’s guns. I’ve got a feeling things are going to get bad soon.” Mike was hoping his words would disseminate throughout the community so that he would not have any trouble further down the road.

“Yes, I do remember Linda saying she was going to Florida. How is Lawrence planning on getting there with air traffic grounded?”

“Drove.”

“The president said they were restricting all traffic.”

“Stubborn prick said because he was a cop they’d let him past the roadblocks.”

The man’s eyebrows arched.

“We’re related. I can talk about him like that.”

“Right.”

“Did he say anything about a giant cat to any of you?”

“As far as I know, they have no pets. Both are too busy.”

“Anything new on the news before the power went out? I was sleeping.”

The man looked at Mike with scorn and derision, his eyes saying what his cultured mouth would not. “Perhaps if you took a bigger interest in the events that were going on around you, you would have the knowledge you desire. The ash will most likely reach us in the next couple of days. They are saying that the entire globe will be affected as the sun will be somewhat shielded from the planet. I wonder what kind of impact this will have on the paper I submitted to the National Academy of the Sciences.”

“You’re fishing for a Nobel prize? How lofty. You realize we are on the verge of end of times, right?”

“Oh, an extremist and alarmist. How simple minded of you.”

“When you and yours are starving, don’t come my way. Just remember I told you all about the guns; I’m not kidding. The flights, the travel restriction, the power going out. That’s just the beginning. Nothing moving means no food gets delivered. No electricity means perishables go bad. Things don’t get better in a week, who’s to say what happens?”

“Oh please, this is America. That kind of thing doesn’t happen, and even if it does, the government will step in.”

“Hurricane Katrina ring any bells? And now, think of something like that catastrophe on a national scale. What makes you think the feds could do a damn thing? They don’t have that kind of resource.”

“But, but—”

“I know where you’re going with that sentence. You’re rich and you’re white. Maybe you would get some preferential treatment. I don’t know. I’ve never had that kind of money. But, um, just where do you think all those city people who are already panicking are going to come when they need stuff?”

“You’re insane.”

“I like to consider myself a realist. I’m not a big fan of yours, but I think it would be in our best interests if the residents of this street got together and had a meeting about protecting ourselves.”

“I’ll hear no more of this.”

“Fine. You know where I’m staying when you change your mind. And if you come to my door, you’d better bring some catnip. Oh, and one more thing, if the shit gets really bad and you need ice for your martini, go somewhere else. I’m a pretty good shot. Always have been. My dad took me out when I was seven, and it was uncanny how accurate I was.” Mike headed back to the Tynes household.

The cat had jumped onto the bay window seat and was watching as Mike came back. Mike could not help but be startled by it.

“Fucking look like a puma. Wait. Where the hell you gonna sleep?” As if the question somehow gave the cat impetus to move, it jumped from its perch and was out of sight before Mike could get all the way into the house. “Probably plotting a way to take me down and eat me, fucking monster. Tynes said you were a stray, so no way you’re an all-the-time house cat. You sure as shit didn’t sneak in with me and Tynes. Tough to miss a cat the size of a pony. I really wouldn’t mind if you found your way back outside.”

Chapter Fifteen

Day 12 – I-70

Darlene took a quick shower and got dressed, making sure her sneakers were always close at hand in case she needed to run. She was starting to both enjoy and dread each day as she got into the mindset of being a prepper and waiting for the next attack.

She could smell dinner and was glad it actually smelled like real food.

Pheebz had nicely but firmly told her sister-in-law she was not needed in the kitchen to help with the meal and could fix her own family’s food in a few minutes.

Darlene smiled at the two boys, who were sitting quietly on the floor in the hallway with their eyes closed, as she passed. So far, they’d been nothing short of amazing. She didn’t know if she’d heard either of them speak more than a few words yet.

“What are you making?” Darlene asked.

“Herbert grilled three juicy steaks, and I made mashed potatoes and sweet corn with homemade biscuits,” Pheebz said.

“You do make some tasty biscuits,” Rosemary said. She was sitting at the kitchen table and didn’t look happy sorting through the meager foodstuffs she’d brought.

“They are,” Pheebz said to Darlene. “The best biscuits you’ll ever eat. Too bad they have all these evil supermarket ingredients though.”

“I’ll tough it out,” Darlene said, and hid her grin when she saw how annoyed Rosemary was just then.

The rest of the day had been long and tough, but Darlene and Herbert had made some headway figuring out sight lines as well as whatever else they needed to do.

They’d even managed to pull one of the ancient Mustangs from the red barn and move it down to the farthest building. They loaded up the pickup as well as a attached a cart with wooden slats to the three-wheeler. They spent the rest of the day adding the slats to holes in the fencing and replacing broken ones.

Darlene hoped everyone else was as exhausted as she was because she needed to sleep, and the only way it was happening was if everyone went into another room and left the couch open.

Herbert came into the kitchen with a troubled look on his face.

“What now?” Darlene asked.

“I just watched the news. Boston wasn’t attacked by terrorists. It was a riot. They’re saying, when the smoke cleared, no nuclear weapons or bombs had exploded. Just the people of the city,” Herbert said.

Darlene sat down at the table across from Rosemary. “How can people be so stupid and uncivilized? There’s a major threat and they turn on one another.”

“It’s happening in most major cities right now, I’m afraid. The president declared martial law, and a shot of Newark Airport showed two dozen military troop transports landing within minutes of one another. They’ve pulled most of our troops from Europe. The Navy will be monitoring the coasts soon. We’re already cut off from the rest of the world with no international flights in or out. They’ve grounded commercial flights as well for fear terrorists already inside the U.S. will move about the country and wreak havoc,” Herbert said.

“Dinner is ready. We can solve the world’s problems after eating,” Pheebz said. She glanced at Rosemary. “I’m not sure what you need to do to make dinner for you and the boys, but I’m guessing not much.”

“I just need three plates and silverware,” Rosemary said quietly, staring at the juicy steaks.

Darlene closed her eyes. She couldn’t fathom how quickly the world everything had gone to hell. Was everything back home gone now? Had this senseless violence spread from Boston up to Maine? She wanted to skip dinner and watch the news, but she was too hungry. She was about to get up to see a quick news story when food was placed on the table before her.

Everyone sat down at the table, Rosemary placing their odd food on plates. Darlene had never been around anyone who was vegan and didn’t know what half of the food was. It didn’t look good to her, especially with a hunk of steaming grilled meat on the table.

The boys sat on either side of Darlene and looked positively miserable, staring at the vegetables on their plate and then at the other food on the table.

“Let’s say grace,” Pheebz said and bowed her head, folding her hands in front of her face.

“Dear Father...” Herbert began but there was a knock at the door.

Herbert and Darlene were both up in seconds, grabbing the rifles nearby.

“You cover me,” Herbert said to Darlene.

Darlene nodded and moved the curtain of the window with the rifle, aiming at the area in front of the door. If anyone so much as looked funny, she decided she would shoot first and ask questions later, surprised at her attitude but knowing there was no room for error. Kill or be killed.

“Who is it?” Herbert asked before stepping to the side, rifle at the ready.

“It’s John.”

Herbert looked confused. “John who?”

“John Murphy. I was your guest a few days ago. My wife and I stayed here. I need help.”

Herbert unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

Darlene took two steps back at an angle and aimed at the corner of the doorframe. If something bad happened, she’d open fire.

“You look like hell, boy. Get in here. Where’s your wife? Are you alone?” Herbert asked and dragged John into the house.

“She’s gone,” John said. He turned and closed the door. “They’re all gone.”

Herbert led John to the couch and dropped the man onto the cushion. Pheebz came into the living room and asked if John needed anything.

John shook his head. He stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes. He didn’t look hurt; there were no obvious wounds or blood, but he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Darlene knew he probably hadn’t if everything on the news was to be believed. It was a jungle out there. She could only imagine what John had been through since he’d left.

“Gone...” John mumbled before slumping on the couch and putting his head back. Darlene, Herbert, and Pheebz watched as John began to snore softly.

“I’ll check him for wounds,” Herbert said. “It just looks like he’s dehydrated and worn out.”

“I’ll get him a blanket and pillow,” Pheebz said. She looked at Darlene and frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“He’s sleeping on your bed,” Pheebz said.

Darlene smiled. “He can have it. I’ll probably spend half the night on watch anyway. I can take a power nap in the chair. It’s more comfortable anyway.”

“That’s why it’s my chair,” Pheebz said.

“Go eat,” Herbert said. He began gingerly looking at John to see if he was hurt.

“I can help,” Darlene said. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She was staring at John. Even looking so ragged right now, he was still handsome.

Herbert shook his head. “I need to, uh, check him in a few spots. Make sure his legs and arms and torso are fine. Which means I might need to strip him down, if necessary.”

“Which means we can’t watch as much as we’d like to,” Pheebz said.

Herbert smiled at his wife. “Be careful. I’ll start to think you’ve been looking at other men all these years.”

“I have. You can look, but you can’t touch, dear. I always come back to you,” Pheebz said.

“Yeah, but are you thinking of me when we kiss?”

Pheebz threw her hands up. “I guess I will be from now on.”

Darlene loved how easy the couple was with one another and the real love they shared. She hoped to find it someday herself. But right now she was hungry.

“The food is getting cold,” Pheebz said.

Darlene followed her into the kitchen and sat down.

Pheebz slapped the table. “How was your steak, Rosemary?”

“Huh?” Rosemary asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pheebz picked up her fork and jabbed it toward the piece of steak missing a good third. “You ate some of your brother’s dinner.”

“No, she certainly did not,” Herbert said from the living room.

“It was a little taste. We’re family,” Rosemary said.

“I asked you if you wanted to abandon this foolish diet stuff and eat like a normal person,” Pheebz said.

“It isn’t a diet. Veganism is a way of life.”

“Well, your life could use some meat in it,” Pheebz said. She took a full piece of steak from the plate and motioned for Darlene to do the same.

Darlene took the piece already cut into. She was hungry, but she could fill up on biscuits and mashed potatoes. Herbert deserved a full chunk of meat.

“Did you let the boys have some?” Darlene asked. It didn’t look like either of the boys had taken a bite of their food.

Rosemary looked down at her plate, which was still full of the food she’d prepared. “They are vegans.”

“So were you up until five minutes ago,” Pheebz said.

“I had a momentary lapse of judgment.”

“I’ll keep my thoughts to myself in front of the children,” Pheebz said.

Darlene cut her steak in thirds and stared at Rosemary, daring her to speak. Darlene didn’t like the woman very much right now. Her poor kids had had to watch her stuff a succulent steak in her mouth when everyone else was in the other room, and she didn’t even share it with them.

“Can I ask if they want a piece?” Darlene asked Rosemary. She hoped she wasn’t being pushy or butting in, but she didn’t care right now.

“You can ask, but they’ll say no,” Rosemary said.

“Yes, please,” one of them said, almost in a whisper.

“And you, buddy?” Darlene asked the other twin.

He nodded his head and smiled.

Darlene handed over each of them a chunk from her steak.

“You eat. I’ll give them some of mine,” Herbert said. “I can fill up on mashed potatoes.”

“That was my plan,” Darlene smiled.

Pheebz smiled and cut off a small piece from her steak too and put it on the plate of one of the boys, following up with a piece for his brother. Boys, she knew, could eat their weight in meat.

“Eat up,” Herbert said, looking sideways at his sister. Rosemary was pouting, head down, moving her food around with a fork. “Ro, would you like another piece?”

Rosemary lifted her head and grinned. “I think I’m giving up on being a vegan. It’s about time anyway. You know me. These fads only last so long.”

Darlene laughed and scooped a generous helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate. “Should we save some for John?”

“I’ll grill up another steak for him when he wakes up,” Herbert said.

“Feel free to make an extra for me,” Rosemary said and pulled the bowl of mashed potatoes to her.

“We need to watch what we eat. I know this is a nice meal, but we can’t do this every night. Pheebz, you need to start taking stock of what we have and what we might need. If I have to, I’ll go into town and take a look around, but I think we’re on our own,” Herbert said. He looked at his sister again. “I really wish you’d been smart and brought real food with you.”

“I couldn’t carry all of it,” she said defensively.

“You still have food? I’m not talking sticks and berries.”

Rosemary nodded and winked. “You know that I know I’m crazy, but I’m crazy like a fox, big brother. Remember last year when I told you this was going to happen?”

“You said it would be a zombie apocalypse,” Pheebz said.

“Well, this is the apocalypse minus the zombies. I used the extra bedroom for storage. Thirty cases of water, thirty cases of canned corn. Thirty cases of canned carrots. Lots of things in thirties,” Rosemary said.

“Why thirty?” Darlene asked.

Rosemary smiled. “Thirty is a power number, dear. It’s a strength sign.”

“Please spare us the crazy talk so I can eat,” Herbert said.

Chapter Sixteen

Day 13 - North Korea

“The Americans are in turmoil. The fabric of their imperialist society has already started to tear. We are ready to attack at your order, Supreme Leader,” General Chan, leader of the Armed forces, said. Medals and ribbons were so numerous they covered the entire breast of his deep green uniform jacket and both arms, and they had begun to creep onto his right pant leg.

“What do you believe the casualty rate will be once we are engaged in battle?” Puon Too asked. At twenty-three, he was the youngest leader North Korea had ever borne witness to. He sat behind his large desk, his eyes looking at the map of the United States and the proposed areas of invasion. His long black hair was tied back in a ponytail and wrapped in red silk. His advisers had told him it would be prudent to adhere to one of the standard twenty-two sanctioned haircuts the country approved of. Instead of yielding to their desire, he had altered the list to include five newer trends including his preferred ponytail. The military had mistakenly assumed they had finally had someone in power that would be easily malleable. If anything, he would become more steadfast in his beliefs because he did not want to seem weak in their eyes.

He was fearful that because of his unwillingness to compromise, he might incur the wrath of a full military coup and had therefore come up with an invasion plan for the United States. He personally had nothing against the U.S. He just anticipated it would get the generals off his back as they pondered a futile exercise. When they’d presented him with a valid plan, he had almost cancelled it before it could get off the ground. His advisers warned him it would be unwise, that the military was already grooming a replacement. Within a matter of months, he had been swept up in a suicidal plan to take down the most powerful country in the world, and he was too cowardly and powerless to stop it.

The thermonuclear device had been hidden in a lead-lined ship transport canister supposedly filled with cars from their neighbor to the south. From San Diego, a tractor-trailer had taken the bomb to an installation in Colorado, where a team of engineers on a work visa for the University of Colorado had put the bomb pieces back together. Not once did any of them question the irony of their situation. They’d been allowed to work in the United States as an initiative to promote peace through science.

Once it was together, the scientists shipped it to Wyoming to a team of three operatives who had come in across the Canadian border. Their cover had been a hunting expedition in the Canadian high country.

Puon Too was convinced that somewhere along this elaborate, bold, and reckless plan, the American authorities would discover the bomb and stop it long before it detonated. He’d been welded into a corner once he was told that the bomb was placed inside the caldera. He had no choice but to give the order to detonate. With a heavy heart, he knew he was putting into motion a series of events that would lead to the destruction of much of the world.

“We believe that the Americans have lost the will to fight and will surrender almost immediately.”

“This? This is something you believe? That the country that gave the world John Wayne, Rambo, and Die Hard will just quit fighting? The casualty rate, General—I want a realistic number.”

“There is not a North Korean soldier or citizen that would not die for you.”

“Are you not listening to me, General? Just because we are killing Americans does not mean that I am in a rush to have our own people die as well.”

The General’s face became taut. He did not like to be berated, especially from someone that was younger than his own son. “Without the secondary nuclear events, we believe that the coalition forces will suffer in excess of twenty-five million deaths.”

Puon Too winced.

“If you allow the next wave of bombs to be set off, we feel that the Americans will capitulate immediately, much like Japan had during World War II.”

Puon Too leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. “Get it done and leave me alone.” Puon Too cried when the General shut his door. “How many human beings have I just murdered?”

Chapter Seventeen

Day 13 - Manhattan

Mike had been doing a healthy dose of nothing except reading the entire day. He was relieved when the lights came back on. “Maybe the aristocratic asshole was right.” He laughed at his own words. “Yeah, right.” Mike was torn between staying and watching Tynes’ house and the black panther or heading home. He knew if he left, the neighbors would tear it to shreds when the looting started. He wasn’t too worried about the cat. The animal looked like it could take care of itself. Then there was the question of whether Tynes could even make it. A cop might have enough clout to get through some roadblocks, but all he’d be bringing with him was an attitude, and that generally got you locked up. Mike’s decision to not go would become infinitely easier the following morning. He was just about ready to lie down on the couch when he looked up the stairs.

“Who’s going to know?”

He grabbed the banister and headed up.

“Holy cow,” he said when he opened the French doors to the master bedroom. “So this is how the other half lives.” The room was the size of his apartment. A large four-poster king-sized bed sat in the middle. To the far right sat a Victorian aged dresser; a small jewelry box and some change littered the top. In the corner was a small makeup vanity with three lighted mirrors. On the other side was an elliptical exercise machine that was currently doing its pre-ordained role as clothes hanger. If Mike was impressed by the bedroom, he was nearly overwhelmed by the bathroom. Marble floors led to a shower that could accommodate three people. Shower heads lined the walls and ceiling.

“Like being in a damned rainstorm,” Mike said, awed as he turned the water on. “I am so doing this.” He began to strip down immediately. “He would be so pissed off if he knew I was using his personal spa!” The lights flickered again. Mike thought he was going to have to jump out before the water turned to ice. He relaxed when it stayed on. After a healthy scrubbing, he used one of the plush towels to dry off and wrapped himself in one of Tynes’ robes even though he looked like a kid trying on his dad’s stuff.

“I could get used to this.” He ran and took a flying leap onto the purple duvet-covered bed. He had not realized just how exhausted he was until he lay down. The day had worn him out, and he was far from out of danger. “Tomorrow, I start over. First thing though, these fucking pillows have to go.” He tossed the dozen or so pillows around the room like a child in the throes of a tantrum, shut off the light, and almost before his head could hit the one remaining pillow, he was asleep.

Chapter Eighteen

Day 14 - Manhattan

Sunlight was beginning to spill through the windows, but that wasn’t what caused Mike to wake. The panther was curled up against his side. “What the fuck?” he said quietly. He would have pushed the thing away if he wasn’t afraid it would seek some sort of retribution. As scary as the prospect of death by cat was, that wasn’t what woke him either. Years of being on his own had honed a skill in him that many others lacked. When no one else had your back but yourself, you tended to watch it vigilantly. The house had an expectant stillness. He wasn’t alone. His shotgun was next to the bed, and he grabbed it. Whoever had come in was silent, and they were close. He knew he wouldn’t have enough time to even get out of bed before they were upon him. His pulse quickened as his eyes narrowed. He knew a time like this would eventually come from a home invader seeking supplies, he just didn’t figure it would be so soon.

A head darted in and looked around, this was immediately followed by a large caliber revolver and an even larger man.

“In my bed? In my fucking bed, Mike?”

Mike relaxed his finger on the trigger when he realized it was the cop.

“Is that my fucking robe? It is! Dammit!” Tynes put the gun away and was now pacing around the room. “You can’t just put on another man’s clothes, Mike, it’s just not right. And what the fuck are you doing with the cat? That thing is a stray, probably has ticks and fleas...and now it’s in my bed? Come on, man. I leave you alone for one night and you destroy the place! My wife sees the pillows like this, her head is going to combust!”

“Hey man, Baggie here got in the house on his own somehow. You didn’t see the hole?”

“Baggie? Hole?”

Mike shrugged. “I just took a shower, man, that’s all. I got out, my clothes were filthy, there was a nice robe, and I used it. As for the pillows, come on man, don’t tell me you’re a fan of them.”

“That’s not the point. My wife is.”

“Speaking of which, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“I swear to you, my plan has been to head out after I got some sleep. Just let me get my stuff together, and I’m gone.”

“Mike, we need to talk.” Tynes sat down on the bed.

“Oh shit, this isn’t where you say you have this weird attraction to me, is it?”

“What? No. Cut it out. This is serious. I want you to know that no matter what you decide, you are welcome to stay here. Is that understood?”

“Uh, yeah. What the hell is going on?”

“There’s really no good way to say this. Boston has been bombed.”

“Bombed? What the fuck are you talking about? Like bombers?”

“Nuclear device.”

Mike felt like a bird of prey had shoved its claws though his chest and pierced his heart. The pain was so acute he wasn’t sure he’d be able to catch his breath.

Tynes moved in closer and wrapped his arms around the man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeated as Mike wailed.

Chapter Nineteen

Day 15 I-70

Darlene and John found a plethora of chainsaws in the red barn. When Darlene went to pick up a huge one, John put up a hand.

“What?” she asked.

“We’d both need to hold it at the same time. And nothing personal, but I don’t think you’re strong enough.”

“Wow. You’re a dick,” Darlene said. She picked up the smallest chainsaw she could find, dragging it dramatically on the ground. “Can you help me with this one?”

John didn’t take the bait and focused on the chainsaws, selecting a decent-sized one from the display.

Darlene put the small chainsaw down and grabbed the next biggest size from what John had selected. Again, he didn’t say a word.

He’d been quiet since his return. Darlene was surprised he’d volunteered this morning to help. Herbert had given the man a wide berth and didn’t ask for help or include him in the daily plans. But during breakfast, John had volunteered to start cutting down the trees in front of the house.

Cutting down trees was slow, backbreaking work, and after a half hour, Darlene was still working on her first one.

John had cut through his first, and he was a sweaty mess, but Darlene still thought he looked good. She looked away and went back to work, her goggles steaming up in the heat.

His wife is missing, you slut, she thought. Keep it in your pants and relax.

She turned to see him bending over, and she checked out his butt. Darlene rationalized she could look but not touch. There was no harm in that.

“How’s it going?” Herbert asked, walking up. He grinned at Darlene, and she blushed. He’d watched her staring at John.

“Don’t you have a bulldozer in one of the barns?” Darlene asked.

“I wish. Then we could clear this in a few hours instead of the days it will take you,” Herbert said.

“I don’t suppose you want to help?” she asked.

“I’m almost done with the perimeter fence.” Herbert had spent the last two days reinforcing the fences, closing up the gaps and clearing the brush on either side so no one could sneak up to the house. He’d also unspooled barbed wire, creating a maze on the sides and back of the house so no one could simply walk straight up.

“We still need to go into town and to your sister’s house to get her supplies,” Darlene said. They’d talked about it and decided the property defenses were more important. Once the trees were cleared and everything was in place, they could roam and see what the outside world offered.

Darlene had been sleeping in a chair in the living room, and her back hurt; it hurt more so with a chainsaw in her hand. Last night, John had slept a good deal, only waking to eat and watch the news.

He hadn’t spoken yet about where his wife was or what he’d seen, and no one pressed him. He’d talk when he wanted to. Darlene knew he was still in shock over whatever had happened.

“I could take a ride over to the Boyette farm and see if Joe has a tractor or a Cat to use,” Herbert said. “I just hate wasting time running fools’ errands.”

John stepped back, turning off the chainsaw as the tree he was working on began to fall.

“Timber!” Darlene yelled, knowing how goofy it was. She couldn’t help it.

Once the tree had hit the ground and settled, John put the chainsaw down and walked over to Herbert. “I think this will take us a week to clear. There are too many trees and this is getting old. I think a ride over to the neighbor’s farm would really help us.”

Herbert nodded. “Let’s go. One of you stays here to keep guard and keep working.”

“Not it,” Darlene said quickly.

John shrugged and picked up the chainsaw before walking toward the house.

“He’ll come around,” Herbert said once John was walking up to the porch.

“I hope so. He’s a moody guy, but I understand why,” Darlene said. “Let’s go and see what trouble we can find.”

“Grab the two rifles and make sure you have your Desert Eagle loaded,” Herbert said.

They drove off in Herbert’s pickup truck, going east and passing three farmhouses scattered down the road. Herbert told Darlene which family lived in each. They didn’t see anyone out, and there were no cars on the road.

When they pulled into the long winding drive of the Boyette farm, Herbert beeped the horn. “It’s always best for Joe to know he has company. He’s too good with a rifle to take a chance.”

“Comforting,” Darlene said.

They pulled up to the front of the house, which was twice the size of Herbert’s home. It was a two-story with a wraparound porch and an open three-car garage. A large barn stood on either side, rearing up behind the main house.

“Joe doesn’t have as much property as I do but he has a lot more room,” Herbert said.

The pair sat in the car and stared at the house.

Herbert finally opened the door after beeping his horn again once.

“He usually comes out if he’s home. I don’t see his pickup truck, but he might be out back doing some work,” Herbert said. “Joe is a good man but he doesn’t like strangers on his property, so stay close.”

Darlene gripped the rifle and stepped out, following Herbert up the steps to the front door.

“Joe, you home? It’s me, Herbert. Your neighbor. I came to ask if you would let me use a power tool or three. Hello?” Herbert banged on the front door.

After another knock a minute later, they decided to go around the porch to the back.

Darlene thought this house was lovely, and it was obvious Joe had put a lot of hard work and time into making the property gorgeous, from the planted bushes to the bird feeders on the side of the house.

“I don’t see his truck or Sandra’s car. I can’t imagine neither of them is home,” Herbert said.

He banged on the back door and waited, staring at the door. It looked to Darlene like he was trying to will it open. After a couple of minutes, Herbert went to the nearest window and tried to look inside. He shook his head. “They have all the blinds closed.”

“Now what?” Darlene asked.

Herbert frowned. “We go inside and hope Joe doesn’t shoot me in the heart.” He bent and pushed aside one of the small planters set on either side of the door, revealing a key.

Darlene smiled. “You always hear about no one locking their doors in places like this.”

“We always lock the doors but the neighbors know where the extra key is in case of emergency. Oh, speaking of which, if there’s ever a time you need the extra house key, check in the red barn. It’s right over the doorframe on a hook.”

“Good to know.”

Herbert unlocked the door and swung it open. “Joe? Sandra? Anybody home?”

After a pause, he stepped inside and Darlene followed, happy to be out of the sun. But it was warm in the house, as if the air conditioning had been turned off or set very low.

They went to the kitchen. Everything looked in place. The table was clear and so were the counters.

Herbert walked down the hallway, calling out every couple of steps.

The rest of the bottom floor was clean and not a knickknack looked to be out of place.

“Let’s go upstairs. I don’t smell anything funny, which is always a good sign,” Herbert said.

Darlene thought it was morbid but realistic. Bad things had been happening. She didn’t know if the Sawyer family also held a grudge against the Boyette family and what they were capable of. Herbert and Pheebz were friendly with them, so it might be a mark against the Boyette clan.

Upstairs was quiet as they went up. All of the doors were closed. Herbert started to his left and opened a door slowly, which led to a guest bedroom. Nothing out of place.

The bathroom was next, and it was clean, although Herbert pointed out that all of the shampoo, soap, and anything else normally in the shower was missing. So were the couple’s toothbrushes, and when Darlene opened the medicine cabinet, she saw it was empty.

“I think they left,” Darlene said. “When we go back downstairs, we need to check the kitchen and pantry.”

Herbert hesitated at the closed bedroom door. He looked at Darlene and frowned. “I’ve known Joe and Sandra for years. Their daughter used to come over to play with...” He turned and opened the door.

The bedroom was undisturbed, the bed made and everything in place.

Darlene sighed. The last thing either of them wanted to find was a couple of bodies, especially people Herbert knew and cared for.

Darlene led the way back downstairs after a quick search of the rest of the top floor yielded nothing but a tidy home.

In the kitchen, Herbert pulled a slip of paper off the refrigerator and put it on the table for Darlene to see. “At least they might be safe.”

Darlene read it, guessing Terri was their daughter. She smiled and looked at Herbert. “This is dated three days before everything happened. They flew down to Miami, which means they might be safe.” Then she re-read it. “Do you think their daughter came to check on the house though?”

“She was supposed to water the plants and feed Sandra’s goldfish according to the note,” Herbert said and walked quickly into the living room.

There had been three goldfish in the bowl but only one was still alive and it looked sluggish. Darlene found the goldfish food and sprinkled flakes on top of the water, watching the fish eat.

“It looks like their daughter never got here,” Herbert said quietly. “I know where she lives in town. It’s only a few miles.”

“When we do the trip into town, we need to swing by and see if she’s around,” Darlene said. She went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was some food, leftovers in bowls, and a twelve-pack of Coke. Cheese slices were in a drawer, and the freezer was packed with food, too.

“I feel like I’m violating them,” Herbert said and pushed the freezer door closed.

Darlene nodded. “I say we leave and lock the door behind us. Once we figure out about their daughter and if they’re safe we can come back if need be.” She glanced at the cabinets but didn’t open them out of respect for Herbert. She knew there was more food to inventory, and it might make a real difference now that John was back and they had seven mouths to feed.

They went to one of the barns behind the house and Herbert opened the doors with a smile. “Joe won’t mind me borrowing the tractor as long as I fill it with gas and make sure it’s running better than when I borrowed it. You can follow me home.”

The ride back to the farm was slow and uneventful, although Darlene enjoyed the smells and sights of being in such a pretty and secluded place. She thought it funny in a way because if this had never happened, she would have never known how beautiful this area was. To her and most people, it was a blip on a map and a minor road to traverse to get from point A to point B.

Darlene wondered how long she’d be here, though. What if the world only got worse? What if, when the smoke cleared, there was no home for her to go back to? She’d been pondering these things so often the past few days her head hurt.

By the time they got back to the farm, she was sweaty and on edge. There was too much work to be done, and even with the Cat to knock down some of the trees, it was still going to be hard work.

John was still outside, using the chainsaw to cut down the trees. He didn’t look up when they arrived.

Chapter Twenty

Day 21 - Manhattan

Not long after the destruction of Boston, Mike went from the one being comforted to the one offering comfort. It was a role he wasn’t quite ready to fulfill, but needs dictated otherwise. Tynes had generously offered Mike his bedroom while he stayed in the guest room. It had been nearly a week, and Mike had not done much except occasionally eat dinner and hold the cat, who genuinely seemed all right with that. Electricity outages had become the norm, and while it was on, Tynes would cook.

They sat at the kitchen table, Mike absently putting raviolis into his mouth while staring into space. This was one of the few times they’d had power on for more than two hours. Both had made sure to take showers, although Mike had to be reminded gently that perhaps he was now dirty enough that this was something he needed to do, especially since he was sleeping in the Tynes’ bed.

Landlines had been a complete loss and cell reception had been nearly as bad. When the phone rang, both men hesitated at the rare sound. Tynes shot up as if he were a sixth-grade math teacher who’d just sat on a tack. He raced into the living room, oblivious that he’d dropped his plate onto the floor. Mike noticed that Baggie seemed to be particularly fond of Alfredo sauce. He could hear Tynes in the other room.

“Linda? Linda? Is that you? Margery? What? Slow down—I can’t understand you.” There was a pause. “You’re cutting out. Tell me again what’s happening. Where’s Linda?” A longer silence. Mike stood up and went to the archway between the kitchen and living room. Tynes had the phone gripped tight enough in his right hand that the screen began to twist, buckle, and then crack. He let his arm fall to his side, his hand opened and the phone clattered to the floor. Tynes slid down the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him. His head hung low; Mike could not have missed the heavy tears that threatened to fall from the corners of the man’s eyes.

“What’s going on? Is…is she dead?”

“She’s been hurt. She was trying to come home—thickheaded woman. She’s in the hospital.”

“She’ll be okay, man.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“She’s got to be tough. She’s married to you.” Mike sat down next to Tynes.

“I should be there with her.” Tynes looked on the verge of tears again.

For a long time, neither said anything. Eventually, Mike reached his hand out and grabbed Tynes’ clutched one. They sat that way for nearly three hours. Baggie joined them, though he slept for most of it.

Chapter Twenty-One

Day 21 I-70

Darlene, sitting on the tree stand, at first thought a deer had wandered into her line of sight. She raised the rifle and looked through the scope, trying to find the movement near the creek.

It was two men, and they were hunched over and coming fast.

Darlene put her finger near the trigger but didn’t shoot.

In the last week and a half since they’d cleared out the trees, John had come around enough to take a shift on guard. It rotated, with one person in the stand to guard the rear and one on the porch to watch the road. The third man slept six hours before relieving someone. It was an unspoken rule that Herbert didn’t have to climb the tree.

There was just enough moonlight for Darlene to use to her advantage. Both men were armed and wearing dark clothing. They slowly hopped the fence and started moving through the field, heading straight for the house.

Darlene knew if she fired it would set a war into motion, but what choice did she have?

She scanned the creek again to see if there were any stragglers or anyone watching the approach. Once she fired, she’d be a sitting duck if they knew where the blast came from.

When she didn’t see anyone else lingering, she waited until the two men were far enough away with their backs to her. It might be a cowardly move, but she couldn’t chance the one she didn’t hit getting a shot off, and she was assuming her first shot would find the target.

“Dad, help me with my aim,” she whispered.

Darlene was about to kill a man or at least wound him. She closed her eyes, counted to three in her head, and knew what she had to do. She inched the rifle’s angle down so she could hit one of them in the leg rather than kill him. If she was quick enough she could incapacitate both of them quickly.

She hesitated. The two silhouettes were getting farther away and closer to the house. Within seconds, she might miss her chance at not be able to get the shot. She wasn’t nearly as accurate with a rifle as she was with the Desert Eagle at closer range.

Despite the cool night air, she was sweating.

Darlene gauged how fast they were moving. If they got too far and she missed, they would run up to the house and put everyone inside in danger.

Stop wasting time and pull the damn trigger, she thought.

Darlene fired and saw the man fall to the ground, his partner immediately dropping to one knee and looking around. She could tell he had no idea where the shot had come from.

Before John or Herbert could come out to investigate, Darlene lined up the other man’s knee and fired. The shot was high and punched him in the chest.

Shit.

Darlene scanned the area with the scope one more time to make sure there were no surprises before climbing down and going to the two men, ready to shoot if she saw any movement.

She shone her flashlight once quickly, followed by two more flashes. Her message was returned backwards from the house, telling her John or Herbert was on his way.

Neither man moved. Darlene held her breath and turned on the flashlight beam, shining it into where she thought their eyes would be. In the event they were playing possum, she could momentarily blind them.

They were both dead.

“Good shots,” John said as he approached at a jog.

“I didn’t mean to kill them.”

The first man she’d hit had taken a bullet to the back of his neck, most likely killing him instantly. The second man had been hit in the chest and through his heart. Two great shots to kill, even though Darlene had been aiming to wound.

“We need to move them to one of the barns,” John said.

Darlene could hear Herbert running from the house now.

“I didn’t aim to kill anyone,” Darlene said.

“Well, you did. And I’m glad you killed them, Darlene. Better than waking up to the sounds of men shooting women and children or never waking up again,” John said.

He stooped and began going through the first man’s pockets, putting the man’s weapon off to the side.

“Who is it?” Herbert asked, panting.

Darlene shined the light at the two bodies.

“Not the Sawyer brothers.” Herbert pointed at the one with the neck wound. “Jerry Shines, a second cousin to the Sawyers. This other one is a Sawyer, but another cousin. Willie. Damn Sawyers were too chicken to come themselves, so they sent these two idiots to see what our defenses were.”

“They know about the tree stand then. I’m sure there’s at least one of them out there,” John said. He reached over and took the flashlight from Darlene, who was staring at the two bodies. He turned it off. “We need to get them to the barn and out of the open field. I don’t feel like being shot.”

Herbert went to Darlene and hugged her. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. Can you hold it together a few more minutes? I need you to help us.”

Darlene thought she was holding it together, but when she touched her face it was wet. She’d been crying. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get back in the tree and make sure no one comes to get their kin. There might be a second attack tonight, and I don’t want to be caught carrying a body and unable to fight back,” Herbert said.

Darlene went back up into the tree and stifled a sob with her hand. She needed to be strong for the next few hours, at least until it was daylight.

She scanned the terrain outside the fence but didn’t see any movement. She wished they had infrared binoculars or scopes. Maybe Herbert knew where to find a couple.

Between looking through the scope for trouble, Darlene cried. She kept shoving her hand over her mouth whenever possible, and both of her sleeves were drenched.

She needed a good cry, for the men she’d killed and her dad and the situation and John’s wife and everyone dead in the world and—

“I’m coming up. Don’t shoot,” Herbert said.

“No, I’ll come down.” Before Herbert could protest, Darlene climbed down and met him on the ground. “I haven’t see anyone, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t there or weren’t there before I killed those two men.”

“Two men planning to kill all of us,” Herbert said.

“Are you done with the bodies? What do we do? Bury them?”

“I’m not sure. I’d hate to put them in the ground and then have to explain to their families why we hid them. But we can’t let them sit in the hot barn for more than a few days, either. I’m not sure just yet,” Herbert said.

“Why are they doing this?” Darlene asked, more to herself.

“Because they’re as scared as we are. They weren’t prepared for anything like this. No one was.”

“You were.”

Herbert shook his head. “Not really. I stored enough food for Pheebz and I for a few weeks. Nothing significant. We’re eating nice meals now because my wife is scared to death and the only thing that calms her is cooking. But soon enough we’ll be wondering what else my sister has to eat. The berries and fruit on the land will come in handy.”

“I’ll go back up and watch until it gets light out. I doubt they’ll come back during the day,” Darlene said.

“John will take the next shift. He wants to get up there. Between you and me, John was a little disappointed you got to fire at them. I think something in the man’s head isn’t right. I didn’t know him too well before, just his brief visit, but he came back dark. Real dark.” Herbert shifted back and forth on his feet. “I think I’ll go to the porch for a bit and you can get some sleep.”

“There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep,” Darlene said. “You look exhausted. I’d rather sit on the porch and cry for a bit. Get it all out. It will be quieter and more private for me. Doing it in the living room on the couch will just wake everyone anyway.”

Herbert looked up at the tree. “Alright. I’m not going to pass up sleep at my age. I’ll let John know to relieve you. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. I think he’d argue if you said you wanted back in the tree, anyway.”

Darlene watched Herbert walk away into the shadows before turning and using the scope to scan the area. Down on the ground she couldn’t see much but she didn’t feel like climbing back into the tree and having to come back down when John arrived.

She walked slowly around the trees, listening after each step for any movement.

Something rustled in the woods on the other side of the fence and she froze, searching slowly for a target. The Sawyers hadn’t gone away. They were still out there and waiting for them to drop their guard before launching another attack.

Darlene didn’t want to kill anyone else tonight, or any night.

She took three quick steps, glad there was nothing underfoot to make a sound. She leaned against a tree and steadied herself, moving the scope slowly to see what was out there.

What if it was five or six armed men this time? What if they’d had enough? Now that they knew they had lost the element of surprise, why wouldn’t they simply rush the farm and take a chance?

Now Darlene wished she’d gone up into the tree. She could see who was approaching and how many there were, and get the first shot off to warn John and Herbert.

Someone climbed over the fence, holding their weapon over their head and not even trying to hide the noise they were making.

Darlene froze, finger on the trigger. What if this was a trick? They’d sent someone to gauge the response or see where Darlene was hiding? She figured they were all hunters and had infrared scopes. Even now, there could be half a dozen rifles aimed at her head.

“Darlene?” the figure hissed, walking toward the tree.

Darlene panicked and fumbled the rifle in her hands, catching it at the last second before it discharged and hit the ground.

“You still there?”

She sighed and realized it was John. She gripped the rifle and watched him approach.

“Are you an idiot? I almost shot you,” Darlene said.

John stood in front of her and put down his rifle. “I had my gun over my head.”

“I thought it was a Sawyer trying to trick me.”

“I hopped the fence while you and Herbert were talking and searched around. I didn’t see anyone else. There’s a pickup truck parked on the side of the creek not too far from here. My guess is they came in alone or whoever was their backup left,” John said.

Darlene realized she was still gripping the rifle. Her nerves were shot.

“I’ll go up and keep watch,” John said. “You look like shit. You might want to go get some sleep.”

Darlene was about to argue with John because suddenly she didn’t like his attitude. She couldn’t tell any more if she was being oversensitive or if he was talking down to her. It sounded like condescension to her, but it could just be how messed up she felt.

“Fine,” Darlene mumbled and began the long walk back to the house, stopping every few feet to listen to the night. She didn’t think she’d ever feel safe again.

The house and property were too big and unmanageable to defend properly. They’d gotten lucky, but next time the Sawyers could easily hop another fence to the east or west and get right into the middle of the property, and no one would know.

By the time Darlene got to the porch, she was exhausted, and not only from the walking.

Herbert sat in his chair, slowly rocking. He had three rifles within reach and a small pouch in his lap, just visible in the moonlight.

Darlene went to sit down next to him but Herbert put up a hand. “Go lie down. You got all day tomorrow to cry. You really need some sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Bull crap,” Herbert said bluntly. He opened the pouch and stuck two fingers inside, pulling out a dark mass.

Darlene sighed. Sleep did sound good right now.

“Don’t tell Pheebz,” Herbert said and stuffed the mass in his mouth.

“About the shooting and killing?”

Herbert laughed. “No. I mean this.” Herbert held up the bag. “If she found out I was still using chewing tobacco, she’d kill me. I swore to her I quit a long time ago, but with all this happening. I just needed a pinch to calm my nerves.”

“I won’t say anything,” Darlene said. She turned and looked up at the clear night sky. Her hands were shaking.

When she turned back to Herbert, he was staring at her and he looked scared.

“Night,” Darlene said and went inside.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I-70

“Holy shit,” Rosemary said. She frowned and looked at her two boys, who were grinning after hearing their mom use profanity. “You two go to the room. Now. Shoo.”

“This can’t be happening,” Darlene said, falling to the couch, eyes fixed on the television.

Boston was really gone this time.

According to the news anchor, a small nuclear device had detonated in the center of the city, leveling it. There was hardly anything left except toppled buildings and smoke. Fenway Park, the venerable stadium, had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

She’d thought the worst had happened. A frustrated city pulling itself apart made more sense than a second nuclear attack on U.S. soil. How had the terrorists gotten such a device into the country? And why had it taken two weeks for this attack?

John, sitting next to her, began to shake. He looked away before finally closing his eyes. “This is insane. The world is coming apart.”

“Not the world. Our world,” Pheebz said. She called for Herbert, who was keeping watch on the porch after they’d eaten lunch.

The news cut to a live shot of the president, and he began by giving the few facts already presented about the bombing.

I thought the Boston Marathon bombing was horrible, but this is even worse. Too many lives gone, and with the fallout and long-term damage, the city will never be the same. Hell, Massachusetts and the entire Eastern Seaboard will never be the same, Darlene thought.

“America is under attack and the cowards are remaining underground and creating havoc in our streets,” the president said. “I have recalled every police officer and soldier in our military back to our shores. We are not going to let politics and the slow grind of government get in the way of what needs to be done. Right here and right now. The United States will close its borders, effective immediately. This means no one gets in and no one leaves. Some of you might have already noticed our United States Naval Fleet anchored off the coasts. They will protect you, and so will the Army flying in to help stop the rioting.” He paused dramatically and stared at the camera. “Fellow Americans, this is our country. Our cities being rioted. Our fellow Americans being attacked by angry mobs. This will end. Now. Thank you.”

Herbert, standing in the doorway, sighed. “Tonight, we need to go into town and see what is happening. Hopefully, everyone hasn’t gone nuts yet. Maybe we can stock up on supplies and get some local news.”

“I haven’t seen anything about the West Coast. They’ve been focusing on the Boston attack. Images out of New York City and the massive riots there, too. But not a lot out of L.A. or San Fran anymore,” Pheebz said.

The coverage went back to the same shots from a news chopper overseeing the destruction of Boston in the distance, the mushroom cloud and the helicopter being buffeted with strong winds even as far out as it was, before turning back to see the destruction. The city had been razed.

“My aunt is dead. The entire Talbot side of the family is gone,” Darlene said, shaking her head. She turned to John. “How far will the radiation and dust and all that spread?”

John shrugged. He was staring at the television. “We could look it up. You’d think they’d tell us what to expect on the news. Some talking-head nobody anti-terrorist nerd should be spouting out facts and figures already.”

Darlene pulled out her phone but it was dead. She’d forgotten to charge it, and with no signal, it was useless anyway.

“I’m going back outside,” Herbert said. “There’s not much we can do about the other side of the country. Heck, we can’t do anything about the other side of the county at this point.”

John stood up. “I’ll walk the property again.”

“I can do it,” Darlene said.

John shook his head. “I can’t sleep during the day. You can at least power nap. I’d rather do it. I’m too antsy.”

“Remember, you need to rest at some point. We’re heading to town at dark,” Herbert said.

“I’m fine.” John walked out the door.

They were quiet as they heard John run down the steps outside and into the driveway.

“That boy is wound up tighter than a ball of string,” Rosemary said. She turned to Darlene. “You should go out there and use your feminine charm on him.”

“Rosemary,” Herbert growled.

Rosemary put up her hands. “Herbie, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. I see the way they look at each other.”

“The man’s wife is dead or missing,” Pheebz said.

“All the more reason to take his mind off of it for a while. Heck, if I was twenty years younger I’d be in the barn with him right now. Hopped up on the hood of a rusty car, too,” Rosemary said.

Darlene covered her mouth and tried not to laugh. The image of the feisty old woman trying to seduce John made her smile. Right now, she needed a good chuckle.

“You make it very hard to be around you, sis.”

“But you still love me, big brother,” Rosemary said.

Darlene went back to the news and watched video of a naval fleet and then a live shot of JFK airport with hundreds of soldiers boarding departing planes. The bottom newsfeed was a continuous scroll of cities updated as far as rioting, curfews imposed, and where residents could go for food, water, and shelter. The last two weeks had felt like years.

It seemed like most news channels were focusing on the positives now and not filling the airwaves with the negative. There was too much negative.

Pheebz changed the channel. MSNBC had an interview with someone who’d survived the Boston attack because he had been driving back to school in Connecticut. The man, who looked to be no more than twenty, had lost his entire family. The hosts were trying to give it a good patriotic spin, but Darlene could tell the man was uncomfortable talking about any of it.

“Leave the boy alone,” Rosemary said.

Darlene stood up. “I think I need to go for a walk.”

“It’s too dangerous outside. It’s been quiet the last few nights, but that will change soon enough,” Herbert said.

Darlene grabbed her rifle and nodded to Herbert. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get away for a few minutes. I’ll go down to the fence line and walk it. I really wish we had infrared goggles or something.”

“So do I,” Herbert said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t hunted in way too long. And when I did, it was during the day with only a rifle between me and my dinner. I never went in for all the fancy toys hunters use these days. It isn’t much of a fair battle anymore. I always enjoyed the challenge.”

“Right now, I’d enjoy a few of those toys,” Darlene said.

Rosemary grinned. “Me too.”

“Sis, I’m warning you.”

Darlene paused for a second when she realized Rosemary was making a sexual innuendo. Wow. The old broad was even feistier than Darlene thought. Good for her. Darlene winked at Rosemary before she walked outside onto the porch.

It was dark, and with no lights on and all the blinds drawn, the only guide was moonlight. That was fine with Darlene, who just wanted to be alone for a while with her thoughts.

John wasn’t on the porch, and this bothered her. If he was out patrolling and saw her movement, he might shoot her. If she made noise and someone else was around, she’d also be in trouble.

Darlene sighed and sat down on the porch, keeping her eyes open for anything.

The night was quiet, as if it were holding its breath. Darlene laughed to herself. Can you be any more dramatic? Lighten up, she thought.

Her dad’s funeral felt as though it had happened years ago instead of weeks. Maine seemed a million miles away, and the life she’d been comfortable with was so far removed from everything she was going through.

She’d killed people. If things returned to normal, would she ever be the same?

John came walking up, and Darlene was glad she’d sat on the porch where there was moonlight. He looked right at her before sitting down in one of the chairs and beginning to rock.

“Nice night,” Darlene said.

“Sit with me awhile, please,” John said, almost a whisper.

Darlene sat down in the chair next to John but didn’t look at him, staring instead at the stars she could see.

“They took her from me,” John said. He was wringing his hands. “Four men. There was nothing I could do.”

Darlene didn’t want to interrupt, fearing it would break the spell and keep him from getting it all out. Maybe John just needed to purge it from his mind once and for all, and then he’d feel some relief.

“They took everything we had. Everything I had. They took my wife...four hillbilly bastards who looked like they stepped out of a casting call for Deliverance. They were evil men, you could see it when I stopped the car. Why did I stop?”

She waited for John to continue, not knowing if there was more he needed to say. She bit her lip and kept looking at the stars.

“I have nothing now,” John said.

“Not true.” Darlene closed her eyes. Why had she answered?

John slammed his fist on the arm of the chair. “Tell me what I have,” he said, and she could hear the anger in his words.

“I’m not the enemy. I am your friend,” Darlene said. “We’re surviving together.”

John stood and pointed at Darlene. “Do you want to know the kicker? The real reason we left the night we did?”

“Because of me,” Darlene said and looked at John. “Or, rather, because of misplaced jealousy.”

She could tell John wasn’t expecting the answer, and he looked away. “Because of me and the things I’ve done in the past. I had an affair six months ago. A girl ten years younger who worked at the pretzel stand in the mall where I work.” John looked at Darlene again. “She could’ve been your sister. It was stupid, and I came clean to my wife, but I think it was too late. We took this trip to get away from Florida and our problems, but it never helped.”

Darlene kept her mouth shut. John was a cheater, and she had no sympathy for him. She felt sorry for any wife that stayed with a cheater and tried to make it work.

John began pacing on the porch. “This is God’s way of getting back at me.”

“I don’t believe in a vengeful God. I believe in karma, and things happening for a reason. But your wife being….What happened wasn’t because you cheated. It was because of the world around us. What you do from that moment on, however, is your punishment or reward,” Darlene said.

“So, you believe in God?”

“I don’t come from a very religious family, but times like this make you want to hedge your bets. I’d rather believe and be proven wrong than, in the end, not believe and be proven wrong.”

John gave a brief smile. “I can see your point.”

“You just need to focus on what’s going on right now.”

“I can’t. I’m so mad at myself and those men and everything and everyone. This rage is simmering and trying to control me. I know it all sounds cliché, but it’s true. I want to hurt someone,” John said.

Before Darlene could answer, John opened the front door and went inside.

She was worried for all of them. If John succumbed to the anger inside, they were all in trouble. And she didn’t know him well enough to understand how much he’d changed. Their first meeting had been only for a few hours, and most of it had been spent with his wife staring at her.

Darlene didn’t even know what his wife’s name was, and she wasn’t going to ask. She thought it odd John only referred to her as ‘his wife’ and not by name. He was suffering from a major disconnect, and now she was even more scared.

She decided to take a walk and see if she could figure out yet another problem thrown at her. She wondered if any of them were going to get out of this alive.

By the time she got back to the house, Los Angeles had been nuked as well.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Day 25 - Manhattan

A week later, and the wounds were still very fresh for both men, barely scabbed over, and for Mike at least, they might never completely heal. The only thing that had kept the men going was the thought of revenge on those that had set these calamitous events in motion. The power had gone out for good the day after Tynes heard from Linda’s family. Fine ash had found its way to New York a few days previously, and most days, the sun was blotted out from the heavy volcanic pollution. Though it was still summer, the average temperature had begun to fall. Maybe it wasn’t another ice age, but the weather was indeed changing. Food was becoming scarce as the farms that remained struggled to keep up with demand. Even if the food was produced, manufacturing and transportation had suffered as well, making distribution extremely difficult.

Tynes had gone in to the police station a few times, but each day, more and more of the force had quit. Panic had taken hold, and the people saw police as a hindrance to their survival. More police had died in the first month of the downfall of the country than had in the entire previous twenty years. The military had been called in almost immediately, and the justice they dealt out completely bypassed the judicial system. Anyone caught in the act of bodily harm upon another was shot. Anyone caught causing property damage was shot. Anyone caught looting was shot. Merely being outside was grounds for getting shot in those first few weeks. Mike ensured that the duo survived, much to the reluctant desire of Tynes.

“We’ve got enough food to last us for weeks. Why get more?” Tynes had asked.

“Weeks? You think the government is going to be righting this ship in a few weeks? I hate to tell you, buddy, but this fucker is sinking. If we could catch a boat, I’d be sailing for the Bahamas. Well, maybe not there—I’ve always been a cold weather fan—but somewhere other than here.”

After the airlines had been grounded, people had turned to ships. Those lucky few that had departed were now stuck wandering the globe, homeless. The same dictate from the North Koreans that mandated no one help the Americans in America applied to those that now found themselves adrift. Germany had been bold enough to launch a submarine to aid. A Chinese spy satellite had caught the transaction in progress as the sick were brought on board the sub and rations were off-loaded. It had been played on their national news. Hamburg had suffered retribution for their interference; it was the last time anyone tried to help. China had off-handedly apologized for the video being aired.

“Where are you going to get the food?”

A run had happened on the convenience and grocery stores. The large bulk stores had clamped down, and those that weren’t completely out of supplies were heavily guarded.

“I have contacts,” Mike said in hushed tones, implying they were less than upstanding citizens.

“And what are you going to use as payment? I’m sure they’re not going to give you anything out of the kindness of their hearts.”

“You let me worry about that.”

“I know you’re right. I’ve just been a cop for so long I have a hard time doing anything that’s not above board.”

“Weird, I would have thought that would be easy for you. You know, with all the ‘takes’ you cops get.” Mike was smiling.

“Shut up. I’ve got a better way that doesn’t involve selling your soul.”

“Who says I still have that available? Baggie, keep an eye on the house.” The cat stretched, its long claws digging into the carpet.

“Sam’s is that way.” Mike pointed to their left.

“Not going to Sam’s unless your idea of dinner for the next year is canned peas.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass. How hungry would I have to be before that started to sound good?” Mike wondered aloud.

“Not long.”

“Where are we going then?” Mike looked around.

“I have good friends at the National Guard barracks.”

“Good enough they’re going to give you food?”

“No.”

“Okay, no hesitation there. Can I ask why we’re going there then? The Guard has a tendency to ask questions after you’re dead.” Mike was genuinely concerned about approaching any military organization.

“I’ve been to the barracks on a number of occasions.”

“Yippee for you.”

“I know where they keep the food,” Tynes said.

“Okay, I’m a little more intrigued. Continue.”

“Thanks. They have damned near a warehouse full of MREs in the event of a disaster.”

“Are you kidding me? Why aren’t they giving it away? Oh, forget it. I get it. They’re saving it for themselves. Why aren’t the Feds forcing them?”

“They’ve got their hands full, I would imagine. Recalling the troops, keeping the country going, collecting taxes, that kind of thing. I bet they don’t give two shits about a few million starving people in New York. I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret. In extreme times like this, the priority isn’t the populace, it’s the government.”

“Yeah that’s a shocker, Tynes. The government has been looking out for their own best interests since Conway Cabal tried to oust George Washington as President.”

“Who? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that all people in power are predisposed to douchebaggery.”

“Fair enough.”

“So Mr. Cop, you really want to steal food from the most heavily armed personnel in the general area?”

“I think we need to.”

“I think we’re going to need help. I don’t think it’s going to be the cakewalk you believe it will be. Whatever set-up they had before is going to be reorganized and reinforced. If you want to fight an army, you’re going to need an army.”

“You got one?”

“No, but I know where to get one. Turn around.”

“Where to?”

“The garment district.”

“I was under the impression Pembroke never wanted to see you again.”

“I think it’s safe to say that times have changed, and I’m bringing him an offer he may not be able to refuse.”

“Hold up, Mike. I want to get food, not start a war. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Little late for that, don’t you think? Seems to me that the National Guard thinks we’re merely moving targets at this point. They see us, and I’d rather have Pembroke’s men by our side to help us get out of a jam.”

“Are you sure that he won’t just take our plan and kill us?”

“You have a plan?”

Tynes looked cross.

“Listen, these are our options. First, we do nothing, we have enough food for a bit, and then we fight everyone else for the remaining scraps and we get killed. Second, me and you go take on the Guard and get killed. Third, we get Pembroke’s help, and either the guard or he himself kills us. Fourth, and the least likely scenario, with Pembroke’s help, we actually score some food and we don’t get shot by anyone. We have enough food for months, we ride this thing out until there is some semblance of normalcy then we deliver some sort of payback to the fuckers that started this shit.”

“My vote is for the fourth option.”

“Pembroke it is. All right, drop me off here. Guaranteed that Juicy and his boys will have a perimeter set up; he sees me, and he’s going to shoot before he ever says anything to his boss.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get a manicure, I think the salon is still open.”

“Seriously.”

“If you hear gunfire, I’m dead. Go home, take care of Baggie, and I’ll see you on the other side. If, in a half hour from now, I don’t knock on your window, I’m dead—repeat the above instructions.”

“A lot of ways to die in this new world.”

“The old world was just as dangerous; it was just hidden from sight better.” Mike got out of the car. “Wish me luck, man.” He pulled his hoodie up over his head and tied the draw strings tight to obscure as much of himself as he could, then he buried his hands in the front pouch, holding on tightly to the small revolver that was there.

“This is stupid. I’m going to get killed before I can get myself killed.” Mike approached the corner of Thirty-Third and Seventh Avenue. It was a ghost town, replete with paper tumbleweeds whipping down the roadway. He thought he could feel eyes upon him, but as of yet he had not been challenged. He didn’t dare scan the windows above him. Just keep walking normal, Mikey boy. He turned the corner and couldn’t believe his luck, or lack thereof, as a group of men stood around a burning trash barrel. Mike wondered if perhaps they would break out into a cappella. He was looking at the back of Juicy’s greasy hair as he walked closer. This was going to be close. A man pointed over Juicy’s shoulder at the impending intruder. Juicy was in the process of turning as Mike was in the midst of pulling out his gun.

“Not close enough,” Mike mumbled. His gun was out, but now at least two rifles were pointing at him. “Juicy, I’ll blow your fucking head off if they shoot me!” he shouted.

There was a silence as Juicy thought on the voice. “Talbot? Shoot the motherfucker.” He turned and looked directly at Mike.

The charade was over. Mike knew that as he threw his hood back to get a better peripheral view.

“I’m fifteen feet away. I won’t miss from here.” Mike wasn’t confident. He’d never been great with a handgun, and a snub nose was accurate for not much more than that distance. He only hoped he sounded confident enough in his abilities that Juicy would believe him, or at least choose not to risk it.

“I told you not to come back here. You stupid puta.”

“I couldn’t stay away, man. I’ve always had this thing for stringy hair.” A couple of the men laughed. There was a strangled growl from Juicy. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here either. I’ve got a proposition for the boss.”

“Yeah, well maybe he’s got a proposition for you!” he shouted back.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s settle this amicably. Hello, Mike,” Pembroke said from the doorway.

“Hello, Mr. Pembroke.”

“I thought I’d made my intentions very clear when last we were together.”

“You did, sir, crystal clear. Circumstances changed.”

“Ah yes, the destruction of your home city. I’m sorry for that.”

Mike felt the true sincerity in his former boss’s words.

“Thank you. I wanted to run something by you.”

“You still at the cop’s house?”

“How...? Forget it; you already know I am.”

“You gay for him?” Juicy spat out trying to save face.

“Even if I was, what business is it of yours?” Mike asked. Juicy had been expecting hostility and denial and was unprepared for Mike’s candid reply.

“Well, because you’d be a fag!”

“You’re an idiot, Juicy,” Mike said as he walked past him. Pembroke had waved him in. Mike thought Pembroke’s particular sexual preference was a well-known fact. Apparently, Juicy had not received the memo.

“Juicy, go get the cop, and if anything happens to him while he’s under my protection, I will personally skin you alive,” Pembroke said as he pulled the door shut. “Why are you here Mike?” he asked as they went down the hallway and into his office. Pembroke moved behind his heavy desk and sat in an expensive leather-bound chair. “Sit, sit,” he urged.

“Thank you.”

“Cigar? They’re Cuban. No more trade embargoes.”

“I usually smoke stuff a little more green, but I don’t think I can pass that up. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Do you want to wait for Tynes?”

“You going to let us live?”

“Depends on what we have to talk about.”

“I’ll wait for him then.”

“Splendid.” He reached across his desk and lit Mike’s cigar.

“He didn’t come willingly,” Juicy said, not wanting to get any closer to an already angry Tynes.

“Hello, Sergeant Tynes. Please sit down,” Pembroke said, ushering the cop to a seat.

“You can leave,” Pembroke said to Juicy. Juicy was less than pleased to not be included in the discussion. The room shook as the door was slammed shut.

“What’s going on, Mike?” Tynes asked.

“Mr. Pembroke here is waiting to hear if the proposal we have is worth his time or not.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“We’re going to need an exit strategy.”

“Gentlemen, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Tell him,” Mike prodded.

“Everything?”

“How many options you see?”

“I know how and where to get food,” Tynes said, turning to Pembroke.

“Ah food, now there is a commodity that will be nearly worth its weight in gold in another month, probably more so. I’m listening.”

“What assurances do I have that once I tell you everything that you don’t just off us and go ahead with the plan yourself?”

“I’m not a damned savage. Believe it or not, Sergeant Tynes, there is a criminal code of conduct. Most don’t adhere to it, but I live by it.”

“Um…Mr. Pembroke, sir. I hate to be Captain Obvious, but that statement doesn’t really guarantee our safety.”

“Michael, I like you. I always have. You kept your nose clean.”

Tynes scoffed.

“He kept his nose clean within our circles, Sergeant. Mike, you did what I asked with a minimal amount of worry. Perhaps you could have risen high within our structure, but I think you did, and still have, too much of a conscience. There are, let’s say, elements of this job that would have proved damaging to that sensitive psyche of yours. Of course, that conscience was one reason I knew I could rely on you not to turn on us. I liked you the way you were. Sarcastic, quick tongued, and quick witted.”

“That’s what you like about him?” Tynes was having a difficult time seeing those as strong personality traits.

“Tell him. I trusted him enough to think he’d at least hear us out. If he likes it, we’re in.”

“I’m saying this under protest,” Tynes stated.

“You can tell the undertaker. I’m sure he’ll give a shit.”

Pembroke laughed at Mike’s words. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“The food, I know where we can get more than enough.”

“I’m not sure there is ever such a thing as ‘more than enough,’ but continue.”

“I have a couple of friends in the National Guard. They have a warehouse on East Twenty-Fifth and Twenty-Sixth that houses thousands upon thousands of full pallets of MREs.”

Mike thought he detected the slightest gleam in Pembroke’s eye. He sniffed the bait. Now they just had to hook him.

“The Guard might just be the most influential and heavily armed gang in this region at the moment. I assume you have a way to bypass the direct approach?”

“I do. A little over a year ago, my buddy took me on a tour of their armory, barracks, and emergency supply warehouses. I noticed one of those huge grates like they have all along the sidewalks downtown.”

“Delivery access.” Pembroke’s interest was increasing.

“Right. I asked my friend about it. He said it wasn’t used anymore. I looked into it, as part of my duty as a cop, because I was curious if anyone could gain access and get to the armory.”

“And so?”

“Well, it’s possible. Not probable, though, because it comes up through a sealed-off part of the old subway system.”

“How sealed off?”

“Cinderblock wall.”

“Interesting.”

“I thought so.”

“How many men do you suppose it would take to secure as much food as possible and potentially foster an escape should that become necessary?”

“I would rather do it with fewer men to avoid detection, but to make it worthwhile, we’ll need a small army. I would say at least fifty.”

Pembroke sat back. “There are perhaps a thousand or so personnel garrisoned there. I can easily get you fifty, but they will not be militarily trained. I think double that number would be in order and perhaps something of an epic distraction as well.”

“They don’t venture out much anymore, and they’re certainly not going to do anything to put themselves in harm’s way. They’ve bunkered in, despite their orders from the Fed,” Mike added.

“You let me worry about that. I’ll need a couple of days to plan this assault. Let’s say three nights from now? I’ll have my driver pick you up.”

With that, Juicy came back to escort the men out.

“Pembroke, any chance I can get another one of these?” Mike asked, holding out the cigar.

“I said I liked you, Mike, I didn’t say we were an item.” He smiled as the men left his office.

“So, now what?” Tynes asked Mike as they headed back to his house.

“Well, we wait or we run like hell.”

“What’s your gut tell you?”

“My gut tells me we’re going to be very hungry before this is all over and that we should maybe see this through. Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re being watched, and if they think we’re leaving, they’ll kill us for sure.”

The crumble of civilization showed its biggest effects within the confines of the city, but the tide of ruin was spreading. More and more houses on the outskirts were destroyed. Broken windows, burned husks, bullet holes along the frames; desolation was becoming more commonplace. Like necrotic skin tissue, the blackening death was marching along. Nothing now could stand within its path; it would wash away the remains of what kept people civil. It had not yet struck Tynes’ neighborhood, but it would, and soon. There were three men and a woman standing on Tynes’ lawn when they pulled up.

“What do those assholes want?” Tynes asked.

“I can see you are the neighborly type. Surprised they didn’t welcome me with open arms when they thought you were gone. I’m sure I’m an improvement.”

“The older guy, that’s Dutch. He’s in charge of the Neighborhood Association. That’s his wife, Marlene. She’s the Welcome Wagon. The other one is a psychiatrist, Collins, or something like that. You two should get along fine. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated by you. I don’t recognize the last man.”

They all turned as the car parked. Mike had not been expecting Dutch’s wife to be as attractive as she was. When she turned, he was struck by her youthful appearance.

“That’s not his daughter?”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

“Oh, thank goodness, Lawrence. We thought that perhaps you had left the city,” Marlene said as she approached. She had her elbow cupped in one hand the other resting on her chest in a very upper-crust gesture.

“You don’t strike me as a Lawrence,” Mike said.

“Yeah, keep it up and this Lawrence will strike you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mike said with his hand outstretched. Tynes cut him off.

“What can I help you with, Marlene?”

“Did you hear? The Kentons from two streets over were robbed. Tied up! Harold was beaten! They broke his nose and gave him a black eye.”

“He’s lucky that’s all they did,” Mike added.

“Perhaps where you come from that is acceptable behavior, but not here.” Dutch said.

“Listen, asshole, I never said it was acceptable; I’m just saying it’s a good thing they didn’t kill him and take his wife. If you think that’s bad, just wait and see what happens in a couple of weeks when no one has any food.”

“I’m sorry...Mike has a unique perspective on all of this. What do you want?”

“Well perhaps he was, um, right in his desire to create a neighborhood watch.”

“You, Mike? You offered to do that?” Tynes had turned.

Mike shrugged. “Safety in numbers. Downtown is going to find uptown soon enough. Even some of these snooters are going to get pretty cagey soon. Starving people don’t give a shit about their stations in life.”

“I agree with my...um...associate here, in principle. Maybe not so much in his delivery. Perhaps we should work on a plan to defend this street. Tonight would be a good time to discuss this. Let’s say six, and we can do it here.”

The small crowd dispersed.

“You need to work on your social skills,” Tynes said as he opened the door for Mike.

“Why? You do realize this shit is just a stopgap. Civilization is falling apart. It’s going to get bad, and soon.”

Tynes took a second to respond. “You don’t believe that, or else why bother?”

“Oh you’ve got it wrong. I don’t want to believe it, but I know. We’re only a few weeks into this. The feds are nowhere to be found, which I find amazing considering the president was pulling all of our troops from around the world. The Guard, which is supposed to be keeping order during a crisis, has decided that the only way to do this is to gun people down in the streets. In one of the largest cities on the planet, commerce has ground to a halt. Right now, I feel like the city is holding its breath like maybe hoping against hope that shit is going to normalize, but once they exhale and the ship hasn’t righted, this place is going to go down in flames and the rest of the country will follow.”

“That’s a pretty bleak view and an unflattering representation of mankind. I hope you’re wrong.”

“Me too, man, but you’re a cop, you’ve seen more of the seedy underbelly than most. What do you think is going to happen?”

“I trust in the establishment.”

“Well, that’s where we differ, then. I give it another week before the D Streeters or some other assholes like them look to start controlling swaths of the city, and not for drug trade, but to take physical possession of the area, creating new townships.”

“Shit, Mike, if I’d known just how big a conspiracy theorist, I might have thought twice about letting you into my house.”

“Anarchy is six meals away. I figure we’re at half that number right now. Let me know what you think about my wild ideas next week.”

Baggie hissed at Tynes and brushed up against Mike, who stiffened from the contact.

“And what the hell did you do to my cat?”

Mike waited until the small mountain lion moved on before he responded. “I think he’s fucking with the both of us. He hisses at you because he knows that you, for some ungodly reason, want to pet him. He sidles up to me because, like a normal human being, I want nothing to do with the caretaker of the underworld.”

Tynes laughed. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

Tynes sat on the couch, Mike on a recliner off to the side.

“This little neighborhood militia is going to change things,” Mike started.

“How so?”

“How are we going to get weeks’, possibly months’, worth of food without them knowing?”

“We’ll share it.”

“Wait...what the fuck are you saying? Share it? I don’t think so.”

“We’ll have to.” Tynes intoned.

“No, we won’t. We’re the ones taking the risk, and they get the reward? No fucking way. That’s not the way this works.”

“Then the plan’s off. My house, my rules.”

“Too late for that. We already presented this to Pembroke. You don’t pull back from a job with him.”

“Listen. This is my job. Your mobster buddy is just lending us some muscle. We have to live with the people on this street, and believe me, they can get pretty nasty too.”

Mike stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m packing up and getting the hell out of here.”

“Fine. See if Pembroke will give you your old job back.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a pretty forgiving guy. I once watched him personally pull all of a man’s toenails out because the guy was a hundred and fifty bucks light on a payment. Does that sound like a reasonable person to you?”

“Jesus, Mike, these are the people you associate with?”

“Don’t forget, Tynes, you’re in with him too now. When you’re surviving on the street, you don’t always get to choose who you do business with. You’re straight with him, he returns the favor; you fuck with him, and you can expect a response ten times worse in magnitude.”

“Do you want to keep a gun handy to shoot our neighbors, when they start asking for help?”

“I wish you lived in a blue-collar neighborhood.” Mike was looking out the window.

“This place too nice for your sensibilities?”

Mike turned to look at Tynes. “Besides the cat-beast, the place is great. The problem is the people. How many of these fine, rich folks do you think served in the military or have ever got their hands dirty from menial labor? Now, I’m not saying they don’t work hard at what they do, but nobody coming here to invade is going to give a shit when someone tosses a calculator at them.”

“I see your point.”

“Shit, no offense, but the only reason you’re here is because of, well, you know….”

“I get it. Half my old neighborhood was guys that had either been in prison or the service, can’t imagine anyone is going to mess with them. If we were in that neighborhood now, we wouldn’t need Pembroke.”

“Not if they had their shit together. Unfortunately, we’ve got the lily whites of the survival world, and you want to feed them. I’m not sure why we don’t just pull up stakes and scram.”

***

They had their first neighborhood meeting that very night. Forty-two people fit comfortably in Tynes’ expansive living room. Some wore camouflage clothing as they let out their inner-Rambos, most looked as if they’d dressed for a high-class social function. Mike could only scoff as he saw more flashing of diamonds and gold than at a jewelry store.

“These idiots think this is a party or something.”

“Play nice, Mike. These people might save our lives someday.”

“Yeah, and I might write the next great American novel.”

“I didn’t know you were a storyteller.”

“Funny guy. I’m going to find a seat.”

“Thank you all for coming. I wish it were under better circumstances and that I had more seating and hors d’oeuvres.” Tynes formally began the meeting.

There was a small smattering of laughs.

“What should we call this?” Dutch asked.

Mike’s hand made a loud slapping sound as it smacked into his forehead. He looked slightly embarrassed when he realized most of the room was looking at him.

“Sorry, I think it was a flying cockroach...continue. Should be something catchy like ‘Neighborhood Nancy’s’ or ‘Pansy Patrol.’ Yeah, something floral related would be nice.”

“Mike! Sorry, my...um...houseguest is less than convinced at the resolve we possess here. He’s under the false assumption that we cannot defend our own.”

“Defend our own?” Gretchen Fairbanks asked. She was in her early fifties and was wearing a long, silver gown that Mike was sure cost more than his yearly rent. “I thought we were here to discuss how we were going to hire personal guards.”

“I’m going to get my bag.” Mike rose from his seat.

“You, sit right there!” Tynes pointed a finger the size of a small tree branch at him. “Mrs. Fairbanks,” he started much more smoothly. “We are all we have; we have to assume that the military is not coming. Not anytime soon anyway.”

“I know this, Lawrence.”

“She said Lawrence,” Mike snickered.

“Don’t make me kill you with all these witnesses around.”

Mike quickly and wisely kept quiet.

“What about a security agency?”

“The problem, Mrs. Fairbanks, is that everyone is in the same predicament we are. No one is going to look out for others when they are looking out for themselves; even our National Guard has been no guarantee of safety. The way we protect ourselves is to do something most aren’t doing. We need to stick together.”

“Strength in numbers,” Dutch said.

“Exactly.” Tynes looked happy—he’d made headway.

Mike stood. “Great, great, we’ve established we’re all friends. Now, to the meat of it. Who has guns?”

There was a fair amount of gasps and scoffing at the sheer nonsense of owning a firearm. Mike was happy to note that was only about half of the visitors. Some had personal weapons but his new best friend, Handely Barton, had what he considered a small arsenal.

“We’re going to get along fabulously,” Mike said, putting his arm around Handely’s shoulders, much to the man’s chagrin.

“Don’t worry, he grows on you like a fungus,” Tynes told Handely.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I-70

Herbert parked the pickup truck on a side road barely visible unless you knew it was there. He’d shut the headlights off a mile back, using his knowledge of the area and the moonlight to guide him.

“We walk from here. The only people who know about this dirt road are the locals, so we need to be careful. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing right now,” Herbert said.

John had been quiet, as usual, but now he looked from Herbert to Darlene and tapped his rifle with his fingers. “I don’t plan on chatting with anyone else who has a gun. Just so you both know. I will shoot first and ask questions later, especially if we’re confronted.”

Herbert put up his hand. “There’s no need for that, John. We’re just going to sneak around and see what’s going on. Try to find the Boyette daughter, if possible. See if the town is even still there. But a firefight with people I know and grew up with is not going to happen. Why don’t you stay with the truck?”

John snorted. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to start shooting people. I’m still pissed at what happened to my wife, but I’m not insane. Of course, if, by some twist of fate, I see the bastards who took my wife, all bets are off. I will shoot them until I run out of rounds. Now lead the way so we can get home and watch the house.”

Darlene thought it was a bad idea to take John with them, but he’d insisted and Herbert had relented. They had no idea what they’d find, and Herbert thought it wise to stick together. The goal was to be in and out within an hour or two while Pheebz watched the house.

The walk down the trail and through the woods took too long, and Darlene knew they’d already wasted too much time.

Herbert stopped and ducked down near a tree.

Just down from the hill they were standing on was the town, running six square blocks before petering out to a few scattered homes. Darlene saw a trailer park straddle the main street.

There were lights on in a few buildings, but not many. No one walked on the street and no cars were moving. It was eerily quiet, and Darlene had a bad feeling about it.

“Where do you think the Boyette woman will be?” Darlene asked.

“She lives above the shoe store, if I remember correctly,” Herbert said. “I think I can get us there through a couple of alleys and keep off of Main Street.”

“Lead the way,” John said, clutching his rifle. Darlene didn’t like the look in his eyes. John was looking for a fight.

Darlene expected to see either burning buildings or men with guns on the rooftops, but it just looked like a normal night in a small town. A nice place to live, all things considered.

As they moved into the town, Darlene noted none of the shops seemed looted. There was no broken glass or garbage piled on the streets. Nothing was out of place, as if the city merely slept another quiet night.

“We got company,” Herbert said while flattening himself against a shop door. Darlene and John did the same.

A car was coming slowly down the street.

Herbert walked past Darlene and John. “Follow me into the alley.”

They did, trying to keep up with Herbert, who disappeared behind a dumpster.

Herbert sighed when they all squatted down. He peeked over the top before getting back down. “I don’t know who it is, but it can’t be good. Anyone cruising Broad Street this slow is looking for trouble.”

Darlene got between the wall and the dumpster and watched the road. John went to the opposite end of the dumpster, everyone still in hiding.

She could see the headlight beam as it moved down the street, getting closer to where they were. There was nothing else between the alley and their spot but the trash container, and it reeked.

Something shuffled behind them, and all three turned, rifles aimed.

A lone man stood with arms raised and a broken smile on his lips. “Don’t shoot. Please.”

“Get down. Now,” Herbert hissed.

The man dropped and crawled on his knees, keeping his hands where they could see them. It was obvious from his dress and smell he was homeless. “If they see us they’ll shoot.”

“Who is it?” Darlene asked, but the man didn’t say a word, curling up next to her on the filthy ground.

It was a pickup truck, with four men standing in the back holding rifles. There were two men inside the cab, and the driver moved a side spotlight up and down as he drove. When he shined it into the alley, everyone ducked.

Darlene held her breath when she heard the driver hit the brakes with a squeal.

“I gotta piss,” someone said. The light had moved, so Darlene peeked out to see a man walking down the alley toward them.

Darlene put up a finger, but shook her head when John went to stand. She motioned for him to get down and relax. They were outmanned and outgunned. A firefight in this alley would be the death of them. She glanced back and didn’t even know how far the alley went. If it was a dead end, they’d be trapped.

The light shone down the alley again, and they heard the man approaching.

“Get that off me, man, unless you want to be embarrassed by how big it is,” the man yelled. “I think I had too many beers.”

He stopped on the other side of the dumpster, and Darlene heard a thunk where she assumed he put his rifle on the metal lid. She kept staring at John, hoping he would stay still.

Herbert had a hand on John’s shoulder, too. He looked even more worried than Darlene that John would do something stupid.

The homeless guy was still curled up with his hands over his head.

Darlene looked at John and Herbert and smiled when they heard the sound: The man was pissing against the dumpster. He was right; he’d had way too much beer tonight.

John actually relaxed and didn’t look like he was going to jump up and start firing, but Darlene could see Herbert was taking no chances, keeping his hand on his shoulder.

It felt like the man would never finish, and Darlene rocked back and forth on her legs slowly so she didn’t cramp. When she heard him zip his fly, she was relieved. Maybe now they could keep moving and stop wasting time.

The man went back to the truck, and they drove away.

Everyone stood and stretched. Herbert led them deeper into the alley once they roused the stranger from the fetal position.

“Who are you?” Darlene asked.

“I’m Thomas, but you can call me Tee.”

Herbert shushed them as they got to the next block, the road empty. There were a few storefronts and homes, but no lights were on at all.

They waited, listening for the pickup truck. It wasn’t a big town, and Darlene knew if they were caught in the middle of the street, they’d be dead.

Finally, Herbert moved and the rest followed. Another alley across the street led to another road, and Herbert went right across to a shoe store without stopping.

He tried the doors and didn’t look surprised that they were locked. The door to the left was for the apartment upstairs.

“Now what?” John asked. “We can’t knock. We’ll wake up the neighborhood.”

“If we bust in, Terri might be waiting with a shotgun, too,” Darlene said.

“We can’t stay on the street. It isn’t safe,” Tee said.

“We need to do something,” Herbert said. He looked both ways down the street before lifting his foot. The kick sounded like a shotgun blast in the silence, but the door swung open.

Darlene pulled her phone from a pocket and turned it on, giving them light. She handed it to Herbert.

There were stairs leading up. Herbert automatically put his fingers near the light switch but pulled back. If they turned it on, there was no telling who would see it. They were sure to draw enough attention by kicking the door in.

“I’ll lead,” John said.

Herbert shook his head. “I will. I know Terri.”

Darlene was glad, because she thought John might go in shooting. “I’ll hang back and make sure no one comes to investigate.”

She stood just inside the doorway, glancing back and forth. Across the street was a cafe, a bookstore and a bakery. It looked like a street out of the 1950s.

So far, the pickup truck hadn’t circled back around, and there was no other noise.

Darlene’s eyes adjusted to the darkness since the only streetlights were on either end of the road and too far to make much difference. She saw definite movement in a window above the bakery. Someone was watching her.

Before she could turn back and alert the others, Tee came halfway down the steps. “Herbert wants you. Right now.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Day 25 - Manhattan

The first test came that night. Tynes had gone to bed early, as he often did, depression weighing on him heavily. Mike was on the couch reading a book. He had perused Tynes’ vast library and found something from John Christopher called The White Mountains. He was in the midst of devouring the science fiction fare when he heard the rumble of engines, many of them in fact. Tynes was downstairs less than ten seconds later, meeting Mike at the window. The house was dark as Mike had wisely put out the lantern he’d been using.

“Military?” Tynes asked.

“You ever seen the Army roll in on motorcycles?”

“Just hoping, I guess.”

Mike moved quickly away from the window.

“Shit,” Tynes said as he did the same. “D Streeters.”

“They’re going to tear this neighborhood down.” Mike went back to the window, peeling a corner of the curtain back when he was sure there was no backlight to illuminate him. “Oh no—what is that stupid fucker doing?”

“What’s going on?” Tynes checked his pistol.

“Dumb fuck is going out to confront them.”

“Dutch?”

“See? Even you think that of him.”

“Unlike you, I keep some things to myself.”

“Makes sense.” Mike looked up at Tynes

“Is he armed?”

“Nothing except his big mouth from what I can tell. Can you hand me the rifle, please?” Mike asked.

“What are you going to do?”

“Something I’ll probably regret in the morning. Oh...so this is the feeling those women get when I take them home for the night.”

“No room in that big conscience of yours for feelings of empathy or pity for the women right now, I suppose. What are you thinking?” Tynes asked.

“I’m thinking I’m going to save his ass.”

Tynes came up next to Mike nearly crowding him out of the area. “That’s fifty yards. Can you make that shot?”

“A lot easier than you can with that thing,” Mike said, pointing to the pistol Tynes had raised up. “Open the window, please.” They both clenched their teeth as the window squealed in protest. At fifty yards, and with the roar of over a dozen motorcycle engines, there was no chance it was going to be heard. It didn’t matter to the duo though; it sounded as loud as the bells of Notre Dame had to Quasimodo.

“Things are getting bad fast,” Mike said as they heard shouting.

“Hold on, I’ll get the scree—”

Mike popped the barrel of the rifle through the mesh. “Sorry man, he’s got a gun on him. Do I shoot before or after he pops the HOA prez? It won’t matter much to gangbangers; a war is a war. But if I shoot before they do, will it mess with me like it did the Japanese psyche for over half a century when they bombed Pearl Harbor before declaring war?”

“Let’s wait to see how this plays out. Maybe they’ll leave.”

“Typical reactionary cop take on the situation. Wait until something bad is done instead of preventing it.” Mike eased back on the trigger and fired. He rocked back slightly as the bullet left the chamber; a swirl of smoke drifted up lazily from the barrel.

“What the fuck, Mike!”

“Relax, I shot his motorcycle. Well shit, and apparently his leg. Must have careened off the bike.”

Dutch had his hands up in the air. The motorcycle gang leader was yelling out something indistinguishable as he wrapped his hands around his wound. The other riders looked around nervously, guns drawn as they scoped for targets.

“Get the fuck out of here or the next one is in your head!” Mike yelled, making sure to be as ambiguous as possible as to whom would be receiving the shot in the head. “And since when did you guys start riding bikes? You’re giving motorcycle clubs a bad name!”

The leader was still screaming, though now it was a string of obscenities.

“Kill them all!” he shouted, looking up. Dutch began to shake his head back and forth vigorously and then started to turn, heading for his home. The gangbanger that had been sitting next to the leader aimed and fired, whistling a round past the fleeing man’s ear. Mike adjusted and did just as he’d threatened, spraying the man’s most inner thoughts, hopes, prayers, and ideas all across the man next to him.

Tynes appeared to be in shock. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.”

“I know I haven’t.” Mike gulped down some bile. The bikers fired back, but none of them knew exactly where to shoot. Dutch made it back to his home. Mike fired three more shots, this time much lower, not wanting to suffer through viewing, or inflicting, another headshot. Two pinged off motorcycle frames, and the third shattered a kneecap. The driver, the largest of the gang, fell over to the side. The leader, when he realized his bike would not start, pulled the headless man’s body from his bike and sat upon it. He swirled his finger in the air and then turned the bike around, speeding away from the killing fields, leaving two motorcycles, one running and one dead, and two men, one swearing, and one dead.

“Fuck.” Mike was shaking from the encounter. “I’ve never shot anybody.”

“Looks like you’ve busted that cherry. You all right?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Okay, you stay here, I’m going out there. Gotta disarm that asshole before he does something stupid.”

Mike put the rifle down as if it were quite possibly the root of all evil. He noticed Tynes come into his field of vision, pistol drawn, hammer pulled back as he warily approached Mike’s kneecap victim.

“Put the gun down!” Tynes shouted.

“Fuck you!” Busky, as he was known in the gang, shouted back. He could not yet see Tynes from his vantage point, and perhaps thought he would be able to intimidate the other man with his size.

“I’m a cop. Put the gun down.”

“Cop? There ain’t no more cops, man. Even if you were one, you should be arresting the man that started all this shit. We came here just looking for some directions, man. Next thing we know, I got a bullet in my leg, and Jegs got a Kennedy pulled on him. He shot his fucking head off, man. Who does that shit?”

Tynes hoped for Mike’s sake—for all their sakes, really—the line about the directions was the lie it sounded like. “Drop the gun, or you’re going to be joining Jegs over there.”

“That ain’t right, man. I need a doctor. I need a hospital.”

“You know as well as I do, the hospitals aren’t running right now. You put the gun down. I’ll get you some medical help.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Busky asked.

“Look where you are. Who do you think lives around here?”

“You ain’t going to shoot me?”

“If we wanted you dead, you already would be. Put it down.”

“Fine, fine, man. I’m doing it.”

Mike watched as Busky made a great show of putting his small handheld shotgun down. Then he watched as the man reached for a small cannon down by his ankle. Tynes could not see the motion from his angle of approach. Mike whipped around and grabbed the rifle, standing as he did so.

“GUN!” Mike shouted, watching the events unfold agonizingly slow. Busky brought his gun up, awaiting the approach of the cop. Tynes was coming into range. Mike attempted to line up a shot. In the end, it was Busky that hesitated. He turned at Mike’s call. Tynes did not, placing two well-aimed rounds into Busky’s chest.

“Nobody shoots Busky,” he breathed, then fell over to the side, blood pooling around his body.

Neighbors began pouring out of their homes, warily at first, making sure that the confrontation was over. Mike rushed out as well.

“You all right?”

“You saved me, man. Thank you,” Tynes said sincerely.

“Not the first time, but you’re welcome.”

“Are you insane?!” Dutch came ranting and raving out of his home. “You could have got me killed.”

“You could have got yourself killed, you dumbass. I saved you!” Mike shouted back.

“Saved me?” The man scoffed. “How does getting me shot at mean I’m saved?”

“You have got to be the dumbest rich man I’ve ever met. Are you alive?”

“He shot at me, you fucking savage!”

“What did you think was going to happen? That your stern talking to was going to set him straight, and that we would have no further troubles with the D Streeters? That perhaps he would see the wisdom in your fatherly words and repent his life of sin? Is that it? That wasn’t some street brat. Do you want to know what was probably going to happen? I’m going to tell you because, apparently, we’re not yet on the same boat, and I don’t think we should go sailing together unless we are. Know what I mean? This is how it was going to go down. See that guy there without the skull?” Mike pointed; Dutch reluctantly looked. “He was going to get off the motorcycle, and he was going to hold that gun to your head and make you escort him and a couple of his friends back to your house, where they were going to see your pretty little wife. My guess is they might have murdered you right away and then had their way with her before killing her as well. But sometimes, well sometimes, they can be pretty sadistic, and they might have made you sit in a chair and just watch as man after man brutally took her. Then they might even have left both of you alive to remember the night. How about that for a kicker? So she’s devastated by a gang rape and then she has the added fury of you impotently watching from the couch, never lifting a finger to help. You become racked with guilt for how big a loser you are by not manning up and risking your life in a valiant attempt to at least try to help your wife. That’s what I fucking saved you from, asshole.”

Tynes arm-barred Mike from getting any closer to Dutch. “He gets it man, he gets it. Look at him.”

Mike paused. Dutch was pale, even considerably more so than his waspish features would allow for. “You’re welcome,” he said, taking one more verbal jab.

“Do you ever know when to quit?”

“What do you think? That’s the kind of shit I knew we’d get from these idiots” Mike said.

“They were D Streeters?” Dutch asked incredulously.

“No, they were the fucking rotary club.”

One did not live in New York and not know about the infamous gang. Most just tended to believe wrongly that if they kept their noses clean, they would have no reason to ever have any contact with them whatsoever. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth, but ignorance has always been a preferred way of life over action. If I pretend it isn’t there, it won’t bother me, seems preferable to sticking one’s neck out in the hopes of fostering some change. So even when the newspapers report a crime purported to have been done by the D Streeters, most assume that drugs are involved. That isn’t always the case. The gang members constantly tried to outdo each other with violent crimes against their fellow man in an absolute show of disrespect to not only authority but the lives of others as well. The only thing that mattered to D Streeters was other D Streeters. They were already as animalistic as a human could be and still walk upright.

“What now?” Debbie Harrington, Tynes’ neighbor from three houses down, asked as nearly the entire neighborhood looked upon the scene. “Can we call someone?”

That was the question of the day. As Americans, they’d been programmed their entire lives that help was merely a phone call away, or that the government would miraculously make everything better when things were at their worst. Consequently, still they waited, though it was clear no help was coming. The first responders had disbanded, the National Guard was guarding its supplies, and the military that had been brought back post haste was protecting the government and her assets. The populace, for the moment, and maybe forever, was on its own, and most had not a clue how to deal with this fact.

“Your phones work?” Mike asked sourly. The aftertaste of the night was beginning to reflux back up into his system.

“Don’t be a dick,” Tynes told him.

“They’re going to come back, you know that, right?” Mike asked. “This was a fact-finding crew. When those guys go back and say they got jumped, they’re going to come back in force. They can’t have anything or anybody make them lose face. It won’t look good for their power grab.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dutch asked.

“I’d say yours for putting me in a situation where I had to shoot. Maybe there was a chance we could have bought our protection from them, but not anymore. Should have let you die, and then maybe that nagging irritation I get behind my eyeballs every time I hear you talking would stop.”

“That true?” Tynes asked as soon as Marlene pulled her husband away.

“Fuck no. We were lost as soon as they turned the corner. They don’t take payoffs; they just take. I’d say we have the remainder of tonight and the daytime tomorrow before they make their show.”

“That’s not much time. Most of these people look like they’re ready to go hide under their beds.”

“Tynes, man, I’m ready to go hide under my bed. Well, I mean your bed.”

“You did what you had to do, and I appreciate that. Now we’ve got to figure out what we need to do from this point forward. I’m thinking maybe we block off the street; have them fight their way through.”

“I have a better idea.” Mike told him his plan.

“That’s better?”

“Sure; in another life, I’m like a colonel of an earth resistance force or some shit.” Mike said wryly.

“You really do just say whatever comes to the top of your head, don’t you?”

Mike smiled at Tynes’ remark.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I-70

Darlene went up the stairs but stopped Tee. “We’re being watched from across the street.”

Tee nodded and went back down the stairs.

When Darlene walked into the apartment, the first thing she noticed was the smell. It stunk of rotting meat and unwashed bodies.

John was standing at the window with his rifle. He glanced at Darlene. “We’re being watched from across the street. At least two people, and they have guns. I’m surprised they haven’t shot at us yet.”

Darlene nodded. “Maybe they’re waiting for backup. We need to leave,” she said.

“Agreed.” John went back to looking out the window. “Herbert is in the bedroom. He has something he wants to show you.”

Darlene walked slowly down the hallway, glancing at the family pictures lining both walls. She assumed these were the Boyette family members, and she sighed. She braced herself for something horrible.

Herbert was standing in the doorway, covering his mouth. At first, Darlene thought it was because of the reek of death, but she could see he’d emptied his stomach at the sight before him.

Darlene had seen a glimpse of the Boyette mother and father with Terri in the middle, smiling at the Grand Canyon in a picture frame in their farmhouse. The disfigured and destroyed woman on the bed wasn’t Terri.

“Who is she?” Darlene whispered.

Herbert shook his head. “I have no idea. It isn’t Terri, though. She didn’t have a roommate, either. There’s nothing disturbed in the apartment. Her jewelry is on the vanity. I don’t know who she is or what happened.”

“We need to go. Someone’s watching us,” Darlene said.

“Tell John and Tee we need to salvage anything we can from the apartment. Dried food, weapons, anything we can carry. I don’t want to think we came to town for nothing,” Herbert said.

Herbert went to the dresser and pulled open a drawer, grimacing. “If I know Joe, he gave Terri a weapon of some kind for protection.”

Darlene couldn’t look. She felt like she was violating a woman that she didn’t even know by going through her personal things. She went back into the living room. John was still in position at the window.

“They’re still there. Watching. Nothing on the street,” John said.

“We need to collect whatever we can and get out of here,” Darlene said.

“There’s some food in the kitchen pantry and a few other things we should take. Once you fill your pockets and a couple of plastic bags, tell Tee to come up and do the same. I’ll go last. I don’t want them to think we are getting ready to go.” John said.

Darlene didn’t want to argue with John, but she thought going one at a time was wasting too much time. She found a handful of plastic grocery bags and opened the pantry. There were plenty of canned goods, and she filled a bag with soup. Terri was apparently a fan. Saltine crackers and three boxes of Pop Tarts were added to the other bag along with two boxes of spaghetti and a bag of white rice. Darlene packed both boxes with a few cans of corn and carrots. Instead of swapping with Tee, she filled two more bags with food and set them on the counter.

Herbert came out holding a .357 and smiling. “I knew Joe would give his little girl a cannon.”

“We need to go,” John said. “I don’t see my voyeur couple anymore.”

Darlene grabbed two of the bags, and Herbert grabbed the other two. John went into the kitchen, but Darlene was already moving down the steps.

Tee motioned for her to stop, leaning close. “I think the pickup truck is idling down near the trailer park. The lights are out, but I heard voices.”

Darlene handed the two bags to Tee and stepped slowly out, hugging the shoe store as she moved, rifle up and ready. She looked across the street, but it was too dark to see if anyone was watching her. At this point, it didn’t really matter. If she saw anyone, she’d shoot.

Herbert stepped out, and a second later, John, carrying two bags himself, followed.

“We walk slowly across the street and into the alley the way we came,” said Herbert. “If there is any trouble...”

“I’ll deal with it. Just keep moving,” John said.

They began walking across the street, Darlene in the lead, followed by Herbert, then Tee and John lagging a few feet behind. She just wanted to get to the alley without any trouble.

Headlights from down the street turned on, and she knew she’d been dreaming if she thought this was going to be easy.

“Run and do not stop,” John said. “I’ll meet you at the truck. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, you leave. I know where the house is.”

Darlene didn’t argue. She sped up, awkwardly running with two bags of groceries and her rifle. She did her best to sling the weapon over her shoulder and pulled out the Desert Eagle. It would be easier to manage as she moved.

She kept running, across the road and passing the dumpster and onto the next street, keeping an eye out for gunmen and anything that moved. They were alone so far.

Two gunshots rang out in quick succession, and she slowed, but Herbert, right behind her, gasped for everyone to keep moving. Darlene knew the shots had come from at least a block over, which meant someone had fired on John, or he’d taken the fight to them. Either way, right now, they could be in dire trouble.

Herbert was panting so hard they might be able to hear him from a block away. He’d never make it all the way back to the truck.

Darlene grabbed his arm and led Herbert away from the trail and off to a stand of trees, forcing him down behind a thick bush. He tried to speak, but she told Herbert to keep quiet.

Tee slid down near a tree and kept still.

Three men wielding shotguns ran from the alley and right up the trail, not even looking.

If we’d have stayed on the trail, they would be shooting at us right now, Darlene thought.

“They’ll find...the truck...if they keep going. We need...to cut through the...woods and walk...home,” Herbert said. He covered his mouth because he was breathing so loudly.

Darlene looked back at the town, wishing John would step out between the buildings. If these men had killed John and were searching for them...

Headlights appeared from the town, at least two vehicles.

Tee stared at Herbert. “You won’t make it.”

Herbert waved a hand but couldn’t speak, trying to catch his breath.

Tee looked at Darlene. “I’ll find you.”

“I don’t understand,” Darlene said.

Tee smiled. “I owned a meat market. Did quite well for myself and my family. But they’re gone, and I no longer have a home. There are many more like me, wandering the land and trying to survive. I’ll live to avenge what has happened to my family. I know it sounds like bullshit, but it is going to happen. You’ll see.”

“Come with us to safety.”

Tee shook his head. “The others will wonder where I’ve gone. I need to tell them I’ve found a friend. I’ll catch up later, and bring a few people with me—and supplies. Guns and ammo. We can defend your place together, if you’ll have us.”

“Of course,” Darlene said. She gave Tee the address to the farm.

Without another word, Tee nodded at Herbert and then ran in the opposite direction, right toward the headlights.

Darlene could do nothing but watch him go before turning to Herbert. “Is there any way you can move?”

Herbert nodded and managed a weak smile. He stood and began walking, leading the way for the pair.

They’d moved only a hundred feet or so, slow going through the woods and thick underbrush, when they heard someone coming up fast behind.

Herbert knelt next to a tree and tried to bury his panting mouth into his forearm. Darlene aimed her rifle and scanned the area. The pursuit had stopped. Whoever it was stood still too.

“Darlene?” It was John, calling from the dark somewhere.

“Here,” she said back. She didn’t put the gun down. What if he was captured and saying it under duress? She didn’t want to take any chances.

John came slowly, fighting through the bushes until Darlene could see he was alone, but he was bleeding from a cut on the side of his face.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“I got into a fight. You should see the other guy,” John said.

“We heard gunshots.”

John patted the stock of his rifle. “I took down two of them. There might be two dozen, and they are terrorizing the town. They have it on lockdown, but I don’t think there are many living townspeople at this point.” He looked at Herbert and nodded. “Where’s the other guy?”

“Tee went to get help,” Darlene said, not sure if that was technically correct. “There are other survivors. He said he’d round them up and bring them to the farm.”

“Hopefully not just women and children,” John said. “We need more fighters and weapons.”

“I’m a woman,” Darlene said defensively.

John grinned. It was the first time she’d seen him genuinely smile. “Yes, I see you have lady parts. But you’re the exception to the rule, it would seem. I’m glad to know you have my back.”

Darlene blushed and looked away, glad it was dark outside.

“Let’s go,” Herbert said, still looking tired but no longer huffing and puffing. Darlene felt bad for the old man and decided on future runs he would stay home and guard the farm. It wouldn’t help if he dropped from a heart attack.

The trio moved slowly through the woods, taking care not make a lot of sound. Every few feet John, who’d taken the lead, stopped, and they listened for pursuers.

They stopped when they heard a gunshot, but it was far behind them.

Darlene prayed it wasn’t Tee on the wrong end of the blast.

It took them an hour before they stepped onto a dirt road.

Herbert pointed across an open field. “This will take us past the Boyette farm and the back way to home. It’s a two-mile walk from this spot. You sure you two can make it? I have no problem carrying you if I have to.”

“I hope we don’t have to carry you,” John said.

“I really hope we have Tylenol left when I get home, because my legs are killing me,” Herbert said. “And I wouldn’t mind a cold beer.”

Darlene had to agree. Although she was young enough, she was overweight and soft. She never worked out, didn’t belong to a gym or go to Pilates classes, and never watched what she ate. Over the last couple of weeks, she’d lost a few pounds, but she could lose a few more. And with all this walking, she was heading in the right direction.

They traversed the field, the moon their guide. John once again took the lead, with Herbert about twenty feet behind and Darlene watching their backs. They were spread far enough apart that no one could get a shot on all three.

Darlene felt defenseless out in the open, and stooping down as they walked didn’t do much to help the feeling. She kept looking back, hearing phantom car engines.

The Boyette farm was quiet as they skimmed the property line.

Herbert rested against a fence, and Darlene caught up, whistling for John to stop.

“Can you make it?” John asked Herbert when he came back.

Herbert nodded. “I’m fine. Tired and worn out, but I can make it. I wanted to stop for a second and finish catching my breath. I also wanted to take a quick look at the Boyette place.” He pointed at the fence and where it ended at a low rock wall. “The rocks go about a third of the way around the property. I helped Joe put most of it in back when we were much younger. He always intended it to be higher, and if you look at the top of the wall, he deliberately made it so he could continue going up.”

“Save your breath so we can get home,” John said.

Herbert smiled. “Don’t be in such a hurry, John. Stop and smell the roses. And look around and see what is right in front of you.”

Darlene smiled. “If we have to leave the farm, we could come here and defend it easier.”

“If we had the manpower,” John said. ”This would be a better place for us to stay put.”

Herbert stood back up and began walking. “If Tee shows up with other survivors, we could make this our stand.”

“If,” John muttered.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Day 26 - Manhattan

The bikes were taken off the road and the bodies buried. A few of the people on the street had a small service. Prayers were said. Mike watched from afar.

“They have no idea what would have happened last night if those men hadn’t been killed,” Mike jeered.

“They don’t know any better, Mike. You can’t fault them for being human.”

“I can fault them for being stupid.” Mike pushed off the telephone pole he’d been leaning against. “I’ll see you inside.”

Tynes headed to the small gathering. “You should get back inside soon,” he said as he looked up to the sky. The sun moved far too quickly across the horizon. Tynes was having a difficult time believing that in a few short hours, they would be in the midst of their own private war.

Two hours after the sun betrayed them and set, a tense Tynes and Mike sat in the living room, looking out the windows.

“You sure they’re going to come?”

“They have to. Word of them getting chased out of a neighborhood gets around, and everyone will start doing it.”

“You sure about your plan? Maybe they just start sneaking in to everyone’s backyard and take a house at a time. It’s a damn cul-de-sac. How hard would that be?”

“Not very, but they need to do something flashy and loud. That’s more their style.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure? This is the lives of us and our neighbors you’re risking.”

“Tynes, man up. Until recently, I was a petty criminal looking at an extended stay in jail, courtesy of the great State of New York. I’m figuring out this shit as we go. There are some things I know, and some I don’t. But the D Streeters don’t pussyfoot around anything. They’re going to want to make a statement. Have a little faith in me.”

Tynes was quiet for a moment. In the downtime, Mike checked the rear-facing windows just to make sure they weren’t being blindsided.

“Yeah, there’re some things you need to know. How to bullshit being one of them. I see what you’re doing.”

“That’s helpful,” Mike said, walking back into the living room.

“How many you think they’ll send?”

“Hopefully not all of them.”

“You think they’d send all two hundred here?”

“Two hundred? Is that how many your gang unit thinks there are?”

“They had very reliable data.”

“You realize that’s about ten percent of their total. Right?”

“What the fuck have you got us into, Mike?” Tynes went upstairs and rapidly began scanning the neighborhood through every window.

“I was the one that advocated leaving, remember?” Mike yelled in response up the staircase.

“Shh! I hear something.”

Mike raced up the stairs. It was faint but immediately recognizable.

“Motorcycles,” they said in unison.

“I know the damned guard can hear that. Would be nice if they got off their damned asses and lent us a hand.”

“Tynes, man, I may not have thought this all the way through.”

Tynes turned quickly. “Now? Now you tell me this? What the fuck did you miss?”

“Even if we win, we lose.”

“I’m not into that new-age Zen shit, Mike. What are you talking about?”

“Even if we somehow—”

“Somehow?”

“They’re coming. Can I finish? When...when we stop them, they’ll come back with more men and more guns. A twelve-house cul-de-sac full of pussies isn’t ever going to be able to stop them. We’ve got to leave, and now, if we want any hope of escaping their retribution.”

“So you’re saying we take whoever survives and head for the hills?”

“Well, I was really talking about me and you, but I guess we could take a pretty girl or two with us. Stop looking at me like that, of course we take everyone.”

“Sounds like fucking Sturgis out there.”

“You ride?”

“I went one year. They ask cops all around the country if they want to come up during the rally. I had some vacation time, and the money was good.”

“Figures you’d go to the world’s biggest party as the bouncer. Yeah, yeah, I know, ‘Fuck you, Mike.’ Your wife didn’t care?”

“That’s where I met her.”

“She working a medical tent or something?”

“She loved to ride.”

“Are you shitting me? Mrs. Tynes is a bad ass too? We’re going to need to talk about that later.”

“How many you think?” Tynes asked as the thunderous reverberations began to rise in volume.

“Hundred, maybe more.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I still think we should have put up a barricade and took our chances.”

“The path of least resistance, my friend. We put up that wall, and they would start coming in over the backyard fences, and then what? We’d be surrounded and outmanned. This way we let them in where we want them.”

“You’re a more dangerous man than I give you credit for.”

“Not sure where that stands on the ranking of compliments. We’ll revisit that as well. Here they are.” Mike said, matter-of-factly.

The street lit up as the first of the single headlights swept onto the street. The noise was so loud it pushed out all thought. Mike noted that the fear in his mind would have done that as well.

“I think I could literally shit my pants right now, I’m so afraid,” Mike muttered.

Tynes pulled his gaze from the window and the approaching motorcycles. “What? What did you just say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Bullshit, you just said you could crap your pants.”

“I said no such thing.”

“Mike, I’m four inches from you.”

“I really said that out loud?”

“I’m going to the other window.”

“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.”

Motorcycles crammed into the large circular street end. They were parked fairly uniformly at first and then became more jumbled as more bikes drove in. They also began to pull onto driveways and lawns. Most riders had dismounted, yet none had moved too far away from their rides. As the engines shut off, the thunder finally subsided. Mike wasn’t sure if he’d gone deaf or not as the resulting quiet was as all-encompassing as the noise had been.

“Residents of Blyleven Street, Murkediem sends his regards. We are representatives of the D Street Demons come to seek retribution for the wrongs performed upon our group.”

“Sounds like a damned lawyer,” Tynes grumbled.

“Bet you had plenty of reasons to hate those guys. Lawyers, I mean. Am I right? All those police brutality charges, I’m thinking.” Mike made a “tocking” sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he mimicked a nightstick rapping a skull.

“I’m not liking the show of insanity right before a battle, Mike.”

Regibold, the representative, spoke again. “Fine citizens, if you but hand over the transgressors, we will deal a swift justice to them and leave your beautiful neighborhood unscathed. Deny us though, and not one of these houses will stand by the end of the night. I will give you…” He turned his arm to look at his wrist, an expensive wristwatch displaying the time at 7:27. “I’m feeling generous. You have until 7:30 to give them up. That’s three minutes. Three minutes more than any of my frie—”

Mike fired his rifle, blowing through Regibold’s turned forearm and into his chest. He fell over, a shocked expression quickly melting away to resignation.

“What the fuck, Mike!” Tynes shouted. Many of the D Streeters were now returning fire in every conceivable direction.

Rill, who had been newly appointed by Mike’s bullet as the leader of this offensive, was directing his men.

“Staying the course, man. You know one of your neighbors would have given us up in a heartbeat if they even thought for a second they’d be spared. Now, we’re all in this together.”

“Well shit, that’s kind of smart.” Tynes had started firing his weapon, as had a few of the other residents. They had the benefit of cover and crossfire, but still they were vastly outnumbered. Gang members that had initially crouched down were now beginning to move toward the houses, using parked cars and trees as cover. Glass shattered all around Mike as he drew a heavy concentration of fire.

“Moving to a new window!” he shouted, quickly backing away and going to a new room. Mike shoved rounds into his magazine as quickly as he could and peeked his head out the window.

“Whoa, maybe should have started here,” he said when he realized his view gave him a much better angle on the war waging below. D Streeters were pinned down in front of Dutch’s house as he was laying down a heavy suppressive fire. “Good for him,” Mike commented. The house next to it, the Houlihan’s, Mike thought, had fallen. He could hear muffled screams coming from inside. The door had been kicked in; a rifle that sounded like it could take down an elephant roared within. Two gang members ran back out, and a third stumbled and fell down the front stoop, a fist sized hole in his back as he fell face forward onto the welcome mat.

The house on the other side was smoldering. Flames began to lick at the windows, and smoke was pouring out. It was only a matter of time until the structure was fully ablaze. Without the help of a fire brigade, the odds the whole street would burn were vastly increased. Mike shot the two D Streeters that had exited. They’d been in the midst of a high five when Mike had blown through the neck of the one on the left. His head lolled to the side as his spine was severed. He’d spun away, leaving the other to dive for cover and wildly look about for the shooter who had killed his partner in crime. Unfortunately for him, he was well within Mike’s sights. Mike hated the thought of shooting a man lying on his stomach, but he hated the thought of that man shooting him even more. The shot struck high in his back and blew out his lungs and heart, killing him as instantly as is possible with a high caliber round. He did not dwell long on the casualty. He sought targets that were moving in on Tynes’ house.

“I smell smoke!” Tynes shouted from down below, he’d gone to the first floor shortly after Mike had moved rooms.

“Radley’s house is going up!” Mike answered back. A hail of bullets caused Mike to duck down.

When the barrage calmed down, Tynes shouted up.

“I’m fine, but company is coming!” Mike had taken a quick glance to see combatants moving around the side of the house. The shooting had been meant to keep him from seeing what they were doing. “They’re coming for the backdoor! You need help?”

“The day I let some damn asshole gang members into my house is the day I can no longer call myself a cop.”

Mike realized Tynes was talking to himself, but he’d answered the question as well. He’d probably take it as a personal affront if Mike showed up. Mike still tried to make it an easier job for Tynes by taking out the slowest of the five heading their way. He missed.

“Fuck, perceived insults or not, he’s going to need help.” Mike was halfway down the stairs when the back door was broken open. This was immediately followed by the chattering of the heavier HK 7.62 round Tynes was shooting. On the heels of that was the 9 mm, which seemed to be the preferred round of criminals everywhere. He did not see Tynes and figured the man was in the kitchen giving him a clear shot at the backdoor. That angle gave the intruders a clear shot at him as well. Mike eyed the dining room table, wondering whether it would stop a bullet if he turned it over. He figured that was all Hollywood made up bullshit and pressed on.

The multiple cracks of the newly introduced combatants quickly drowned out Tynes’ heavier round. The shots were deafening. Mike was five feet from the opening that led into the kitchen. A gang member ran in and through the kitchen, trying to come up and flank Tynes. Mike was better prepared for this eventuality than the man he now faced, but not by much. Mike reflexively pulled on the trigger three times. The first struck where the chest plate met the man’s neck, the second struck flush in his Adam’s apple, and the third tossed the top of his skull off like a shorn cap. The man was dead before his face smacked down onto the hardwood floor.

Mike dived to the side, hitting the wall hard. A bullet grazed his cheek as another man showed. Mike fired back twice. The first missed. The second hit the man in the side. He stared down the barrel of the man’s weapon and closed his eyes in preparation for the meeting with his maker. He was surprised at how little it hurt when he heard the next few gunshots.

“You can open your eyes now,” Tynes said, coming around the corner.

“I’m not shot?” Mike squinted through his right eye.

“A little bit. Come on, I hear engines.” Both were afraid it meant gang reinforcements were coming; it was quite the opposite. The D Streeters, having come across an opponent willing to fight, were doing what most bullies do: they were leaving faster than they’d come. Shots still rang out as the gang tried to cover their retreat, and Tynes’ neighbors were still flush with battle adrenaline. Dutch was the first out, getting to his hose and desperately trying to get some water on his neighbor’s house. How much longer they had with the gravity fed systems was anybody’s guess. Mike figured it was a lost cause then realized it wasn’t Dutch’s neighbor’s house he was trying to save but rather his own. Some of the residents came out as if in the midst of a daze. Some immediately went to Dutch to aid in his firefighting efforts. Others cried for help as they or someone they loved had been hurt.

“Holy shit.” Mike looked over the mayhem. The battle hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes, yet thirty-two D Streeters were on the ground, dead, dying, or injured enough that they were out of the fight. “I’m going to help HOA man.”

“Not yet. Some of these scumbags could still be plenty dangerous. We need to restrain those still living.” Almost as if to reiterate this point, a gangly, unkempt man with a bullet hole in his leg stood and took a shot at Dutch. Tynes and Mike made quick work of putting him down. Dutch waved when he realized what had just happened.

“That’s like that cop sixth sense shit, isn’t it?” Mike asked.

“More like common sense. They’re injured and pissed off, makes for a bad combination. In my garage, above the worktable, there is a container full of zip ties. Could you please grab me a handful?”

“A cop with a garage full of zip ties. There’s another shocker.”

“It’s not a damn garage full—just get them.”

Mike was back in less than a minute. He was about to comment on how that was the cleanest, most OCD garage he’d ever seen, until he came out. Tynes had his weapon trained on one of the gunmen and was yelling at him to drop his gun. Mike came up alongside him and began to advance, all the while firing his rifle, spilling what little blood remained in the man onto the street.

“Mike, you can’t just keep shooting them!” Tynes was beyond angry.

“What are you planning on doing with them anyway? Not like we can send them to county for lock up,” Mike returned with just as much heat. Mike’s outburst did have the added effect of knuckling under the gang members who had not yet dropped their weaponry. Those that could, put their hands up in the air to signify they were surrendering peacefully. Within five minutes, they had twelve of the wounded bound up. Three more had died from their injuries.

“Murk is going to tear this place down, man,” Rill said as he laughed. Heroin blackened teeth shone dully from his mouth.

“Shut up.” Tynes tied the man’s hands together behind his back.

“Gonna burn just like that house.” He nodded his chin toward where Radley’s house was really engulfed. Tynes could feel the heat midway across the street. He wondered how those closer were able to withstand it.

Tynes had moved on to the next. When he turned the man over, the flat fish-like stare told him that there was no need to use one of the strong plastic ties.

“Hey man, I’m...hurt bad,” Rill wheezed “You gotta fix me up. That’s like, the rules of engagement or some shit.”

“I’ll fix you up all right. Shut up.” Tynes went to the next man, this one a shade deader than the previous. Whatever this man had witnessed at the end had terrified him. His lips were pulled back in fright and his mouth was the shape of a silent scream.

“You got a ladder?” Mike asked Dutch.

“Garage.”

Mike ran and set it up. “Give me the hose!” The roar of the fire making talking difficult, Mike shot up the ladder, dragging the hose behind him. Fire-igniting embers rained down all over him as he thoroughly soaked down the roof of Dutch’s home. The other close-by neighbors began to attach extensions to their hoses so that they could get water on the blaze as well. Mike thought it would be as effective as pissing on a wild fire, but possibly, if enough people had to urinate, you could really do some damage. Saving Radley’s home was out of the question. The strategy had shifted to saving the houses on either side and, in effect, saving the neighborhood. For four hours, they alternated between dousing the burning house and soaking down the ones that weren’t.

When Mike finally came down, his legs felt like rubber, and though he was drenched, he was close to dehydration due to the heat. Mrs. Padilla from a street over handed him a large bottle of water, which he greedily drank down. It was four in the morning by the time the house had been reduced to a smoldering ruin, posing little danger to the surrounding homes. Dutch thanked Mike and those that had helped profusely. Mike wearily made his way back to Tynes’ home. He was halfway across the street when he realized that the bikes and bodies were gone. His right foot came down into a large sticky pool of blood and shook the remembrance of the earlier events free.

“How the hell did I miss this?”

Tynes sat on his stoop, watching Mike’s approach. “Good work tonight.” He handed Mike a beer.

“Thanks, is this a good time to ask about a raise?” Mike sat down next to him and spun the cap off. “Yummy, warm beer.” Mike grimaced.

“Just be happy they even had any on that last grocery run.”

“Where is everything?” Mike asked.

“We cleaned it up.”

“Yeah I get that, but there were thirty or forty bikes and the bodies to go with them, and that’s not even including the wounded.”

“Dump truck,” Tynes said sourly.

“Oh.”

“Fitzgerald over there owns a construction company, he went and got one of his trucks and took the bodies.”

“Do I want to know where?”

“I don’t see why you’d want to.”

“The bikes?”

“We rolled them into Henrietta’s backyard.”

Henrietta was an octogenarian, near as anyone could tell. Physically, she was in great shape. It was her mind that resembled the portrait of Dorian Gray. It had rotted away almost to the point of no longer functioning. She’d had a live-in nurse, but the woman had disappeared, along with a few choice items, the day after Boston had been destroyed. Henrietta was now staying at her neighbors’, though she believed herself to be on a cruise to Ecuador, and the inhabitants of the house were the ship’s crew. She complained that the service was inadequate and that the alcoholic drinks were watered down to an unacceptable level.

“The prisoners.”

“We let them go.”

“You do realize those were the same guys who said they were going to rip your tongue out through the hole in your neck, right?”

“One in the same.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.”

“How long you figure before they come back?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it if they were on the way.”

“This wasn’t a big enough lesson for them?”

“How many of those guys have been in and out of prison?”

“Most of them multiple times, I would guess.”

“Seems to me they aren’t too big on the whole learning from their mistakes thing. They’ll be back. I’d say we should get the fuck out of Dodge, but I’m too damned tired to do much more than sit here.” Mike took a long swallow, finished his beer, and stood with the assistance of Tynes’ shoulder. “I’m going to reload my magazines, and then wherever my head hits, that’s where you’ll find me asleep.”

Tynes nodded and popped another beer open. “How did we come to this?” he asked the wind as he looked upon the bullet holes strewn across his neighbor’s house, the still smoldering ruins of another, and the dark, wet patches that nearly covered the entire end of the street. He knew it was just the beginning of much bigger and much worse things to come. A battle, a fucking life or death battle, had just been waged in Manhattan. On his goddamned street. Neither the cops, nor the Guard, nor the armed forces, nor any other governmental agency had shown up to aid in any aspect. They were truly on their own. The very sheer fabric of society had not only been torn, but shredded, and the scraps had been thrown in the world’s largest dumpster. Tynes stood, finished his beer, and thought about throwing it into the street. “No, I’m not there yet.” He brought it into the house. He nearly tripped over a prone Mike, who had fallen asleep on the floor not more than ten feet inside the door on a large throw rug. Tynes went to the couch and grabbed the blanket Mike had been using and threw it over him. He contemplated standing guard. That lasted long enough for him to rest his eyes.

He awoke some eight hours later. Mike was looking down at him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I-70

“To be honest, this took a lot longer than I thought,” Herbert said. He put his hand up when the pickup truck came down the driveway. It had been nearly two weeks since Boston and Los Angeles had been nuked.

“That’s far enough,” he yelled.

Darlene watched as an elderly man stepped out of the truck, carrying a pistol. His passenger, whom she recognized as one of the men from the gas station when this all started, stayed in the cab.

“Herbert,” the man said.

“Dusty.” Herbert glanced at Darlene. “Be ready,” he whispered. Herbert walked down the steps but didn’t go any further.

The other man took his time, looking around as he walked. He pointed at the pile of trees. “Doing some landscaping?”

“What do you want, Dusty?”

Dusty smiled, but Darlene didn’t think it was pleasant. He made a dramatic motion of putting the pistol in the holster at his side. “I came to talk.”

“There’s really nothing to talk about. You do your own thing, and we’ll do ours,” Herbert said.

“I want my kin back.”

Herbert nodded. “I’ll put them on a trailer with all their stuff within an hour. How’s that sound?”

“It’s a start. There needs to be reparations, too,” Dusty said.

Herbert nodded and smiled. “You’re right. For trespassing on my land and forcing me to waste ammo on the two thieves, I think I deserve a box of ammo for this rifle.”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’m head of a vast clan, and the Sawyer clan remembers things. All things. Like who killed one of them. There are a lot more of us than there are of you.” Dusty stared at Darlene for the first time. “She’s not even blood, and neither is the other fella hiding out back in the tree. I see Rosemary and her brats are here too. You can’t protect all of these women, and you know it.”

“Are you threatening my family?” Herbert asked. His rifle dipped slightly.

“I’m telling you we need to work together. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Dusty said.

“You went to school with me, Dusty, so you know I’m not the sharpest pencil in the box. I’m not following your logic,” Herbert said.

“I think it would be very fair and generous of you, since you killed two of my kin, to give us half of your food and supplies. You have less than a dozen to feed while I’m responsible for nearly thirty mouths. And I know you’ve been hoarding food and other stuff for as long as I’ve known you, so I’m guessing a couple of those barns are packed with it. I’m a reasonable man,” Dusty said.

Herbert snorted and raised the rifle, aiming in Dusty’s general direction. “You’re a crazy man and you always were. You know damn well I’d never agree to any of this. I’m guessing you’re bluffing to see what I’ll do or you’re stalling because the rest of your inbred family is circling the block. Either way, you already know my answer.”

“I’ll give you six hours to give me the bodies and half of your food. No more,” Dusty said.

“You can set any crazy time limit you want. You know it isn’t going to happen. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re not going to fool me. If I came to you, would you give up half your food?”

Dusty shrugged. “If I thought it would save my family, I would.”

“There you go threatening me again,” Herbert said.

“That isn’t a threat, you old fool. It’s a damn promise.”

Herbert raised his rifle and aimed it at Dusty. “What’s to stop me from ending this right now and putting a bullet in your head, Dusty?”

Dusty smiled but he looked scared. “Nothing would stop you. But it won’t end, and you know it. There are too many Sawyer members who would like nothing better than to have yet another excuse to kill you. And we outnumber you quite a bit, in case you forgot. You kill me, and Buck will be on your doorstep. And he won’t just shoot you. He’ll let you watch while he has his way with the innocents. Understand me?”

Darlene wanted to shoot the bastard herself.

Dusty put up his hands. “Either put your finger on the trigger and pull or get the damn rifle out of my face, Herbert. I came to talk to you.”

“You came to threaten my family.”

“I came to offer you a dose of reality. Look around. This farm is way too big for three of you to defend it and worry about two old women and two kids. I am offering you something you desperately need: protection,” Dusty said.

“The only thing I need protection from is the Sawyer clan.”

“I’ll wait by the end of the road and let you talk it over with your family.”

“You might as well go back home, Dusty. I told you I would hand over the bodies. But nothing else is leaving this farm.”

“We’ll see,” Dusty said.

Herbert had lowered the rifle an inch and taken a step back, ready to retort when they all heard the gunshot.

Dusty frowned and went for his pistol.

Herbert shot Dusty in the face, blowing off a chunk of flesh and watching the body drop to the ground.

As the Sawyer in the truck opened the door, Darlene began firing, blasting the windshield and door window out. Herbert moved to the driver’s side as Darlene stepped forward and shot at an angle, trying to get the bullet through the door and into the Sawyer.

It worked and she heard a scream before he fell out of the truck, holding his side. The blood began pooling around the man.

Herbert stood on the other side of the truck and opened the driver’s door, aiming his weapon.

Darlene stepped up and kicked the man’s gun away.

“How many more are out there?” Darlene asked. She knew they didn’t have much time. If this was a full-scale attack, they’d need to prepare.

“You got this?” Herbert asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go see what happened with John,” Herbert said.

Darlene still hadn’t heard another shot, and she was worried. What if John had been killed and even now a line of Sawyers were marching up the field?

“How many?” Darlene asked, putting the rifle to the man’s head for emphasis.

“There’s two pickup trucks about a mile away.” The man closed his eyes and grimaced in pain.

Darlene nudged him with the barrel, just above where she’d shot him. “How many are trying to attack from our rear?”

“None. I swear. Dusty didn’t want to fight you. He was here to scare you into giving in without a fight. He doesn’t want a war. He wants to steal from you and be done with it,” the man said.

“You’re lying,” Darlene said. “He sent two men to kill us.”

“He sent my brother and cousin to take whatever was in the barns. He didn’t want you to see them at all.”

“Look at me,” Darlene said. She needed to see the lie in his eyes before she ended his miserable life. He was a liar.

The man opened his eyes and looked up at Darlene. “I’m not lying. Dusty said you weren’t the enemy. Herbert and his family are locals, and nothing bad was going to happen to you. There are men in the fields at night breaking into homes and killing us. They come and go like ghosts. Dusty was too proud to ask you to join us in the hunt.”

“I don’t believe you,” Darlene said but pulled the rifle away. She couldn’t believe him. It didn’t make sense. Who had attacked them then?

“Darlene,” Herbert yelled as he came walking up quickly, John twenty feet behind.

Darlene moved away from the shot man but kept an eye on him.

Herbert walked up, out of breath, and bent down to catch it.

“What’s going on?” Darlene asked and looked at John as he walked up. “Tell me what happened.”

John shrugged and looked at the dying man. “I thought I saw someone near the creek. It was just a deer. We’ll have meat this week, though.”

Darlene couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’ve started a war.”

“The war was already upon us. We just took the first few casualties,” John said. “The odds are not in our favor.”

“This is bad,” was all Darlene could say.

John aimed his rifle at the man on the ground. “We need to put him out of his misery.”

“He is not the enemy,” Darlene said.

“Really? He is from where I’m standing,” John said. He took a step toward the man.

Herbert stepped between and put up his hands, looking at the man. “Can you drive?”

John shook his head and stomped a foot on the ground. “No way. He is not going to run get the rest of them.”

Herbert glanced at John and frowned. “Back up, son, and get the gun out of my face. Now.”

John hesitated, looking at Darlene, who looked away. John lifted the rifle and put the barrel in the air before stepping away.

“I can drive,” the man said. Darlene didn’t think it was possible, but if she was looking at the choice of getting away or being shot by a madman, she’d take her chances driving too.

Herbert stared at the man. “This was a mistake. A really horrible mistake. I heard a gunshot and so did you. So did Dusty. We thought you were going to ambush us. You would’ve done the same thing.”

The man nodded. He was losing blood, and Darlene didn’t think he would make it.

Herbert turned to Darlene. “Help me get him into the cab and the driver’s seat. Then we can put Dusty in the rear.”

The man didn’t protest as he was helped into the pickup truck.

John growled and walked away.

“Are you sure you can drive?” Herbert asked.

The man gave a weak smile. “I’m going to try. Why are you letting me go?”

“Because no one else needs to die. I am sorry for what happened today. I truly am. Perhaps we can get together at some point and bury the hatchet, especially if there are strangers trying to kill us locals. The town itself is overrun with men carrying weapons. I didn’t see anyone left,” Herbert said.

“They raid at night,” the man said. He began coughing.

“We’ll put Dusty in the back. Give us a second,” Herbert said. Darlene helped Herbert lift Dusty and place him on the bed of the pickup truck.

Herbert leaned close to Dusty and frowned. “I’m sorry, you old codger. This went on way too long between our families. And for what? I’m really sorry, and if I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. I swear on my life.”

Darlene slapped the back of the truck when Herbert turned away to wipe the tears from his eyes. She didn’t stare but kept an eye on the pickup truck as it made a slow arc.

The driver looked back at them without expression on his face and stomped on the gas pedal.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Day 27

“Made it another night.” Mike said as he came inside the house.

“Why are you in my room?” Tynes asked with a stretch.

“I’m not, man, you’re on my couch,” Mike said while Tynes looked around trying to orient himself. “It’s my couch since you took your room back.”

Tynes sat up. “Everything is mine, I own the house, remember?”

“Just semantics, man. Can anybody really own anything? And you had better not have drooled on my pillow.” Mike walked over to make sure it was not, indeed, wet.

“Don’t pull out Descartes on me this early in the morning.” Tynes dragged a hand across his face.

“Early? It’s after noon.”

Tynes stood, at first thinking he was late for something, then he realized that he really didn’t need to be anywhere. “No D Streeters yet?” Tynes asked suspiciously.

“Weird, right? I figured for sure they’d come back last night. I should go see if Marlene, needs anything.” Mike said unabashedly.

“Leave my neighbor’s wife alone. How’s Fred doing by the way?” Tynes asked.

Fred Simpson was the owner of the Simpson Hardware Supply chain that had seven shops throughout greater New York and whose house had been breached. He’d forced them out but at the expense of a bullet to the shoulder.

“He’s in a lot of pain; lucky for him, the bullet went straight through. Henrietta has enough pain pills to get the whole block high. My lovely Marlene is keeping an eye on him and doling out the meds. I think it would be worth getting shot just to have her nurse over me. I was thinking about shooting myself in the foot or something.” Mike had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Give it a rest. She’s married,” Tynes said.

“Yeah, but to Dutch. She’d probably thank me.”

“I’m sure that’s what would happen. Let’s go see if anyone needs any help.”

“What? Like we’re going to walk around the neighborhood on our beat or some shit? You do realize not all of us just woke up,” Mike told him.

“Exactly, and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not a cop, and I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you aren’t one either anymore.”

“Someone has to be,” Tynes said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I had my first reality check last night.”

“Just last night? You sure are quick,” Mike said.

“There was a damned war here last night, and no one came. In one month, we have gone from being the strongest nation in history to utter chaos. I still can’t even wrap my head around it. If we don’t watch out for everyone else, who will?”

“Tynes, man, we need to watch out for each other, and that’s it. We can’t even begin to be responsible for others.”

“What was last night?” Tynes asked.

“We shared a common survival goal,” Mike said matter-of-factly.

“Right. And us patrolling and helping others furthers that cause.”

“No, man, it doesn’t. If people believe there’s still help out there, they will use it until there’s nothing left. They’ll be less inclined to do for themselves what they think someone will do for them.”

“We can’t afford Old West justice out here,” Tynes said.

“And you’re going to stop it?”

“I have to try.”

“Why? Because you were a cop? Assholes shot cops all the time, even when we were civilized. I bet now there are people targeting people like you just because they can. Why do you think the fucking Guard is sitting perched in their ivory tower? They get shot at every fucking time they leave those gates. Why bother helping when it’s clear people don’t want their help?”

“Some do, Mike.”

“Maybe, Tynes, but I don’t know how you’re going to sort them out. We are rapidly heading toward survival of the fittest. Even this little neighborhood union thing has a very short shelf life. If we have to move and we have to move quickly, who’s going to watch out for Fred or Henrietta?”

“I will,” Tynes said.

“Want to know what will happen then?” Mike asked.

“Clue me in, Mr. Social Order Expert.”

“You’ll find yourself alone guarding two invalids. The three of you will be the next to die in the anarchy. Well four, because I’ll probably stay with you, but I won’t be happy about it.”

“You’re a funny guy, Mike.”

“Funny how? Like funny weird or funny ha-ha?”

“No, I mean you talk about all this lone-wolf crap and only looking out for number one. Yet you climbed that roof last night, risked your life to keep that blaze from spreading.”

“I didn’t do that for him, I did it for me. If the neighborhood burned, I’d have nowhere comfortable to sleep.”

“Uh huh. Let’s go.” Tynes grabbed Mike’s shoulder and ushered him out the door.

Mike’s grip tightened on his rifle when he saw a car slowly approaching.

“What is this now?” Tynes had not moved. Mike headed down the walkway.

“I see you made it through the night?” Pembroke was in the backseat, a small French Bulldog in his lap.

Mike almost said, “No thanks to you.” But he had enough enemies. He saw no reason to add to that growing number. “You should have stopped by. We had a big block party, got a little out of hand at the end, but at least the cops didn’t show.”

Pembroke laughed. “I see your razor wit hasn’t left you.”

“It’s about all I have left.”

“I get the feeling, Michael, that no matter how bad things get—and they’re going to get real bad before they get better, if they ever get better that is—that you’re going to somehow come out the other side. You’re like me: a survivor.”

Mike hoped that wasn’t necessarily the case. They were both survivors all right, but Pembroke would do just about anything to ensure his continued existence at any cost to those in his way. Mike wisely nodded.

“I’ve got some payback I need to administer before I’m done.” Mike told him.

“On who, the North Koreans? Is that a surprise? You didn’t know? You can thank them for the destruction of your city.”

Tynes came up alongside Mike.

“Officer Tynes, I’m happy to see you made it as well.”

Tynes didn’t see the same reason to be as courteous as Mike had. “Checking on your investment?”

“Shouldn’t I? If not for my help, I would imagine last night would have turned out very differently.”

“Your help? I didn’t see you or any of your men out here.”

“Careful, Officer Tynes. Just because I am feeling magnanimous today does not mean that cannot change.”

Mike stepped in front of Tynes and bumped him backwards. “He lacks social graces, Mr. Pembroke. Officer Tynes, why don’t you maybe see if Henrietta needs her drool cup changed,” Mike said, never turning to look at the big man. Even still, he could feel the penetrating stare as it bore through his back. After a long moment, Tynes walked away.

Pembroke laughed.

“Sorry. He hasn’t quite figured out how things work these days.”

“Ah...but you have. Haven’t you Mike? You knew that first week. I must admit I’m surprised you’ve stuck around here. This isn’t really how I’d pictured you. You could come to my fold, you know. There’s a real chance of making it there. I need more like you.”

“I’ve hitched my cart, Mr. Pembroke.”

“Sentimental attachments will get you killed, Michael.”

Mike shrugged. “Don’t I know it.”

“And still?”

“I grew up Catholic. The guilt would weigh me down if I left now.”

Pembroke laughed again. “You’ve brought more smiles to my face in ten minutes than anyone has in the last month. It would be worth having you around just for that.”

“Oh, you’d get sick of me quick enough. That’s what all my exes say anyway. At first, they love it because I make them laugh constantly, then they start to get pissed off that I never take anything seriously.”

“We’re still on for our grand heist?”

“The National Guard raid? Of course.”

“Good, good. Because you know how I feel about people who disappoint me. Oh, one more thing,” Pembroke said before he rolled his window up. “The D Streeters won’t be bothering you anymore, I mean unless of course, our relationship has altered?”

“We’re still good, nothing has changed.”

“Good, good. See you tomorrow night, then.” He motioned for his driver to move on.

“What was that all about?” Tynes asked, sifting through the ashes of Radley’s home as Mike walked over to him.

“You were right, just checking up on us.”

“I don’t like him. Not sure getting him involved in this was such a good idea.”

“Maybe not, but he got the D Streeters off our back.”

“He did? How?”

“Didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

“How much pull does he really have?”

“We’re going to find out tomorrow night, I think.”

“I should have forced my way to Florida.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Chapter Thirty

I-70

Darlene pulled her belt another notch and sighed. She’d need a new belt soon if she kept losing weight. While she felt better than she had in years, she didn’t like being so tired all the time. Day in and day out, they’d secured the farm property and watched for an attack.

John had been moody for days after they’d let the Sawyer man go, but he hadn’t argued with Herbert or Darlene. He’d simply taken every shift he could in the tree and stayed away from everyone.

Of course, he’d been first in line when the deer he’d shot was prepared by Herbert in the green barn and Pheebz did her magic with the meat. They’d eaten venison for several lunches and dinners until it was finally gone, and no one ate more than Rosemary and her boys.

The boys were still quiet, but Darlene could see they were more at ease, and they often accompanied her on the three-wheeler drives around the property to check the fences.

She thought Austin had a little crush on her because he wouldn’t talk directly to her, preferring to tell Aiden what he was thinking, or for Aiden to ask the question on his mind.

The boys went through the bushes and picked the berries one day, proudly bringing the full baskets inside and asking Pheebz if she could bake a pie with them. She smiled, and that night they had the greatest blueberry pie Darlene had ever eaten.

But despite the days passing uneventfully, they were all walking on eggshells.

Darlene, John, and Herbert took turns watching the farm, and Pheebz and Rosemary watched the news each night.

They knew the Sawyer family wasn’t likely to let the killings go, especially of their patriarch, Dusty. If Herbert was right, Buck Sawyer would be leading the family, and he was a hothead. Right now, they were planning the next attack.

Pheebz had her small garden on the side of the house, and Rosemary had taken it over. She’d been planting rows of different vegetables that could grow this time of year in California and looking ahead to the future growing seasons. Luckily, the glove compartment in her VW had been overstuffed with seed packets.

“You want to take a ride with me?” Herbert asked Darlene before breakfast. John had already walked to the back of the property to sit in the tree stand until dark, taking a bowl of rice and beans and two bottles of water with him.

“As long as it isn’t to town to buy eggs,” Darlene said.

“I want to circle past the Boyette farm. See if they came back…or their daughter did. See if anyone else got the idea to squat there,” Herbert said.

“Should we tell John?”

“Yes. We need to swing by and let him know, not that it will do much good. John is in his own world right now.” Herbert led Darlene outside, where two three-wheelers waited. “I gassed them up and checked the tires this morning.”

“It’s barely morning,” Darlene said and stared up at the cloudy sky. “You think we’ll get rain today? Finally?”

Herbert shrugged. “You never know. We might get a quick storm. It’s hot enough already. I’m going to bet lightning and thunder show by the time we get back from our tour.”

Darlene looked toward the trees where she knew John was sitting. “I wonder if he’s ever going to come back around.”

“I sure hope so. His attitude is an added negative to this mess we’ve got ourselves in,” Herbert said.

“Agreed. I feel so bad for him, though. He lost his wife.” Darlene sighed and got on the trike. “But there’s no excuse for being trigger happy and getting us into this mess, either.”

“Do you believe he had no idea the Sawyers had come calling?” Herbert asked.

Darlene thought about it for a moment. The tree stand was far from the house, but when she sat up there, she could see for a great distance, and anyone kicking up dirt on the driveway would be seen well before they got to the house. “No. I think he saw them. I also think he heard you and Dusty arguing, but there was a dead deer. He didn’t shoot at someone creeping up, which he had every right to do. If I was up there and I saw them coming, I would’ve had to protect us.”

“If he saw Dusty drive up, why shoot the deer?”

Darlene didn’t know. She started the three-wheeler. “If you saw a deer out there, would you take the shot? Chances are he didn’t put the two events together.”

Herbert glanced back at the house. “We’re running low on some food. We always need meat, especially fresh. You ever slaughter a cow?”

“Can’t really say I have.”

“About six miles out is the Powell farm. My guess is two dozen cows and enough chickens to feed us for months. Who knows what else they have out there. They’re also an older couple who’ve been in this area forever. We might be able to go bargain with them for some of their livestock,” Herbert said.

“Lead the way,” Darlene said.

They both carried rifles and two pistols each, Herbert taking his time once they got on the main road. With the noise of the engines, it would be easy for anyone watching to hear them coming from a mile away. They pulled into the long drive of the Boyette farm without incident and right to the front of the house.

It was quiet and clean, just as they’d left it.

“Stay together,” Herbert said. He took his rifle and went to the front door, banging on it before looking into the windows on either side. After a minute or two, he led the way around the house.

The click of a shotgun stopped Herbert and Darlene as they rounded the side of the house toward the back.

Herbert put up his hands and smiled. “Hey, Terri. It’s me, Herbert Brinker. I’m your neighbor.”

Darlene put up her hands as well. The woman looked crazy, mascara running down her face and her hands unsteady on the shotgun. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and her clothes were filthy.

Herbert took a half step forward, and Terri shook her head. She was sobbing.

“Put the gun down and let’s talk. What’s the matter, Terri?”

“Drop the rifles,” Terri said quietly. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“We don’t want that, either. We’re on your side,” Herbert said.

Darlene bent slowly and put her rifle on the ground the same time Herbert did, putting both hands in the air.

“The other guns, too,” Terri said, waving the shotgun for emphasis.

Herbert nodded and put his handguns on the ground next to his rifle, as did Darlene.

Terri was clearly unstable. Darlene could only imagine what she’d been through the past few weeks. Any sudden move and she would shoot them.

“Can you talk, Terri?” Herbert asked. “I’m an old man, and all this standing is going to bother my knees. I didn’t get two knee operations like your dad did.”

Terri seemed to relax slightly when Herbert mentioned her dad, which Darlene knew was a good move. Herbert was a friend and neighbor, not the enemy.

Terri turned the shotgun on Darlene. “I don’t know her. She isn’t Susie.”

Herbert shook his head. “This is my friend Darlene. She was visiting from Maine when this started. She’s also one of us. On the right side, Terri.”

“She looks like Susie,” Terri said.

Herbert didn’t look at Darlene but he frowned. “Yes, she does. Can we go to the porch and sit? We can talk.”

Terri nodded. “I’m not putting the gun down just yet.”

“Not a problem,” Herbert said. He walked slowly up the back steps to the wooden furniture, sitting down and placing his hands on the table. “Joe and I made this table and these chairs about ten years ago. They’re still holding up. You remember that, Terri?”

Terri walked backward and leaned against the house, still holding the shotgun, but it had dipped a few inches down. “Why are you talking to me like I’m retarded?”

Herbert laughed and looked at Darlene. “Now that’s the Terri I remember. She went to school with my Susie and, sure enough, Terri taught her how to really use sarcasm.”

Terri smiled and the gun dipped another couple of inches. “But she’s the one who taught me all about the farm boys around here and how to ignore them. I wish I’d listened.”

“Where are your parents, Terri?” Herbert asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“The last time I talked to them, they were stranded in Florida, and I told them not to come back. It wasn’t safe.” She sat down across from Herbert and leaned the shotgun against the bench with her hand holding it.

“Good move. I don’t think they would’ve gotten a flight, and driving doesn’t seem safe right now,” Herbert said.

Terri turned to Darlene. “Are you retarded?”

Darlene laughed and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“We came by a couple of weeks ago and fed the last goldfish,” Herbert said.

“They’re all dead now. Dad hated them anyway. They were mom’s pets, the only ones she was allowed to have. Can you imagine? Living on a farm without a dog and at least a dozen cats in the barns? Un-American.” Terri shrugged her shoulders. “But that was my dad.”

“What are your plans?” Herbert asked.

“I don’t have any. I can’t go back to my apartment,” Terri said, looking away.

“We went looking for you,” Darlene said quietly.

Terri looked like she was going to cry again. “She was my best friend, and those men...it all happened so fast. I was just going up the stairs when they attacked me. I fought them off and managed to run away, but Casey was still inside. I chickened out and hid for days until I saw what the town had become. Then it took me three days to get back here because I was so paranoid they were following me.”

“You’re welcome to join us down the road,” Herbert said.

Terri shook her head. “I’m staying here. Nothing personal, but I need some time to myself. I also know my dad was even crazier than you when it came to prepping for something disastrous to happen. The root cellar is packed with supplies. If you run into trouble or need something, you come see me.”

Chapter Thirty-One

I-70

Three days later, Darlene saw the ragtag line of people walking down the road. She was glad they’d chopped down all the trees and eventually cut them into a massive pile of firewood for future use.

Now she could see this line of people before they could see her, and she knew Tee would be leading them. She yelled for Herbert, who was inside taking a nap. Since all this started, their sleeping patterns were all off. Darlene was getting used to taking two interrupted naps a day instead of getting a solid eight hours, and sleeping on the couch while everyone was awake wasn’t always easy.

“Well, I’ll be,” Herbert said and smiled. He poked his head back inside. “Pheebz, you better get the rest of the silverware cleaned. It looks like we got fifty people coming for lunch.”

“I just hope John doesn’t shoot anyone,” Darlene said.

“Actually...could you drive out to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid?”

Darlene nodded. Better to be safe than sorry. John had cooled down over the last few days, but he was still being too quiet and moody. He always had a weapon on him despite the fact he’d never even shot a gun before all this happened.

By the time she drove down to the trees and warned John, Tee had gathered everyone off the side of the driveway where the trees had been staged for firewood.

Several tents were going up, and already a cooking fire was being started.

Tee came over to Darlene and hugged her as she got off the three-wheeler. It was unexpected but not bad, and Darlene realized Tee had cleaned up and was wearing what looked like a new shirt, shorts, and sneakers. He had a ridiculously large hat on his head and Darlene thought it might even be a ladies hat, but she didn’t comment. She was sure it had helped him stay out of the California sun.

“Where have you been?” Darlene asked, looking at all the people.

Tee waved a hand. “With some friends. We have to hide during daylight hours so we could only move such a large mass of people right before dusk. At night, they search with their trucks, but by first light, they’re gone. It never varies, so when it got dark we continued moving towards you until we found somewhere else to hide until night again.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“Oh, it was. But along the way we found a few more recruits and got lucky with people having supplies as well as finding a sundries supplier off of a dirt road that they hadn’t spotted yet. The warehouse was intact and filled with more things than we could carry. They sent shipments to prisons on the coast, and we have enough razors and candy to kill someone now,” Tee said, laughing.

“Do you have weapons?” Darlene asked.

Tee lifted his t-shirt, showing the pistol he was carrying. “Everyone has something, even if it’s only a broken leg from a chair.”

Herbert was walking among the people, shaking hands and chatting. He looked relaxed for the first time in a while. He started helping a family put up their tent.

Darlene was worried, though. All of these new people would need food, and setting them up near the driveway meant anyone could see them from the street. They’d need to start patrols and watch the fires at night.

Tee wandered off, and Darlene went to Herbert.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked.

“Sure. What’s up? Isn’t this great?”

“Yes, it is. But...” Darlene looked at Herbert and frowned. “We need to protect these people. Putting them in front of the house only exposes them to the Sawyers and the group holding the town prisoner and anything else happening down the road, or some other potential enemy seeing the smoke during the day or the glow of the fire at night.”

Herbert shook his head. “You’re right. I got so excited they were survivors; I didn’t think.”

“Let’s make the rounds and get them moving before they get too comfortable,” Darlene said.

“We can move them between the red barn and the back of the house.” Herbert looked around. “With so many hands, we should be able to clean out the barns in no time, too. Maybe set up some temporary housing in case it rains.”

“Good idea.” Darlene saw Tee and went back over to him. “We need to move everyone to the back for safety.”

Tee nodded and turned to the people he was helping. “Change of plans. Everyone needs to grab their gear and follow this pretty lady to a more permanent spot.”

Within an hour, most of the camp was set up, and Darlene set to task organizing it. They needed to block it off from a casual observer coming up the road. She collected half a dozen men, and they gathered the extra sections of fence and wooden slats and began the task of building a secondary wall from the house to the barn.

A neighbor from down the road had spotted the long line of people and joined them, packing his wife, kids, and the few scraps of food they had left. But when he handed Darlene two infrared rifle scopes and four rechargeable walkie-talkies with a recharging station, she thanked him profusely.

Herbert stood on the back porch with Pheebz and smiled, greeting people and shaking hands.

Darlene, after she’d gotten the fence posts dug and the fence itself was going up, took a break and joined Herbert and Pheebz on the porch.

She Pheebz looked around at the influx of people, but she wasn’t as positive and calm as Herbert was. All she saw was another fifty or so mouths to feed.

“You’ve got your own little nation here, dear.” Pheebz said, hugging her husband.

“Herbert, let me ask you a serious question...do you know many of these people?” Darlene asked.

“I recognize a few faces.”

“Do you see anyone who might have a tie to the Sawyer family?”

Herbert frowned and pulled away from his wife. “Not off the top of my head, but I’ve been so busy figuring out how these people could help out.”

“What’s wrong?” Pheebz asked.

“Anyone who wanted to get up close and personal to us to see our defenses, what we have as far as supplies and weapons are concerned, and anything else, could have easily joined this group at some point and is right now spying,” Darlene said. She knew she sounded paranoid, but she couldn’t help it.

“I’ll take a walkthrough once everyone is settled and figure out who I know and don’t know. Then get Tee and see which people were in his original group and which joined them,” Herbert said.

“I have infrared scopes and walkie-talkies too. I need to charge them but then it will be nice to have one in the tree and up front at night,” Darlene said.

Darlene knew with all the noise out back, her power naps on the couch would come to an end, but it was still better than sleeping on the ground. How in the world she’d ever get enough privacy or bathroom time now was a mystery. She decided to keep her diva thoughts to herself.

By the time she’d gone inside, plugged the charger to the wall, and gone through the kitchen to the backyard, someone had set up two blowup pools and was filling one with water.

“What are you doing?” she asked, running over to the guy holding his shirt in one hand and the water hose in the other.

“Filling up the pools. It’s hot out,” he said.

Darlene shook her head. “No. We can’t waste the water. The power could go out anytime, and we need to conserve everything possible.”

“The water has nothing to do with the power,” he said. He grinned, the look on his face simple: He thought Darlene was an idiot. “And without everyone using their water because they’re dead, we got plenty of it now.”

Darlene turned away and went in search of Herbert. She found him near the red barn talking to Tee and another man.

“They’re filling up swimming pools,” Darlene said.

Herbert smiled. “I saw that. We were just discussing going over to the Mackenzie farm and maybe getting their water tower over to us.”

“An entire tower?” Darlene asked.

“It’s empty. They haven’t used it in ages. It’s more for show than anything, but I figure it is still solid and can hold a lot of water. I got three hoses, and we can fill the tank over a day or two. No telling when the power and water is going to disappear,” Herbert said.

Darlene shrugged. Maybe she was thinking too hard about all of this, but this goodwill and endless supplies wasn’t going to last forever, and she didn’t want to see what would happen when things began to run out. She knew from watching the news what happened then: People became even more selfish and violent when they thought they weren’t going to get the last scrap of food.

Tee nodded. “Tell me where it is, and I’ll run over with a couple of men and bring it here. It’ll take a while to fill, so the sooner the better, right? I’ll see if they have extra hoses as well.”

Darlene didn’t want to go on this mission. She wanted to relax now that they had so many extra eyes and hands. She looked at Herbert. “There are a ton of people now. Having two bathrooms inside isn’t going to help.”

Herbert snapped his fingers. “Of course.” He turned to two men standing nearby. “In the barn, you’ll find a few shovels. Take them and a couple more men and walk out about a hundred yards...” Herbert pointed his finger at an invisible spot down the field. “We need to dig a trench for waste. A long one, and have someone get you the last of the fencing so you can get some privacy as well.”

Darlene spent some time wandering around, introducing herself to a few of the other women and being friendly to the many children. She felt helpless, though, because there was nothing she could really do to help any of them. Most had suffered much more than she had. While she had never lost electricity or gone without food, some of these people had gone without both for weeks.

She stood and watched as people settled in and wondered if she’d be able to do it if it came to being outside without any choice to be comfortable.

Darlene didn’t think she could handle it. She went inside and smiled at Pheebz, who was peeling potatoes. Rosemary was next to her, washing and handing them over.

“Who are you cooking for?” Darlene asked.

Pheebz frowned. “For us. I know this is a wonderful thing to have all these people safe, but I can’t imagine the logistics of feeding half a hundred mouths three times a day. I figure Herbert will have to put together a plan and see what supplies and food we even have at this point.”

“My big brother wants to save the world,” Rosemary said.

“It isn’t a bad trait to have,” Darlene said. “What do you want me to do to help?”

Pheebz shook her head. “Nothing. We’re taking our time with it. Go relax on your couch-bed until dinner. You look exhausted. Take a nap while it’s still quiet in the house. The boys are playing in the bedroom, but they’ll be out soon enough when they smell good cooking.”

Darlene was going to protest and tell the women she wanted to help, but she didn’t. She wanted to plop on the couch and watch mindless television until she fell asleep. Hopefully a nice power nap was in her future before the room got loud.

She kicked her shoes off and fixed the pillows on the couch, snuggling up with the blanket she used at night. The remote control was at her fingertips and her goal was to steer clear of the news.

When the TV came on, she couldn’t turn the channel. She knew it would be on every channel. Dear God, not again, she thought. “Pheebz, can you quietly tell Herbert to come in the living room?” she yelled.

“What is it?”

“He needs to see this, but I don’t want everyone to panic,” Darlene said and sat up. She turned the volume down so it wasn’t too loud but she could still hear it.

By the time Pheebz found Herbert and got him inside, Darlene had watched an endless loop of the destruction. She’d been staying away from the newscasts because she didn’t want to know anymore. It was bad enough; she lied to herself. It couldn’t get any worse.

“What’s the matter?” Herbert asked, but his eyes were already on the screen.

“I had no idea Los Angeles had been nuked,” Darlene said quietly as footage began to roll.

“Neither did I, but looking at the date, it happened around the time Boston was attacked,” Herbert said.

“I didn’t want to tell you. I figured you’d both find out eventually. I only saw it a couple of days ago, me and Rosemary, but we thought you were so busy and in such good spirits....” Pheebz put her head down.

“It’s alright, dear. Perfectly understand why you wouldn’t want to burden us all with this too” Herbert said.

“That’s not all.” Darlene surfed the channels until she came upon a live shot from a news chopper. She wiped a tear away. “Chicago was nuked about an hour ago.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Day 28 - Manhattan

The neighborhood stayed on an alert vigil, everyone, that is, but Mike. He wholeheartedly believed in Pembroke’s words. He rested a fair majority of that night and the next day.

“It would have been nice to have your help out there,” Tynes said, coming in just as the sun was going down.

“You mean scraping the blood off the street? I left when I heard one of the idiots say that he wondered how much it was going to hurt the resale value in the neighborhood.”

Tynes opened up some Pop-Tart foil packets, and the two ate in silence, both lost in thoughts of what was going to happen in just a few short hours.

“I wonder if that was the best last meal I could have hoped for.”

“Last meal?” Tynes asked.

“I have a bad feeling. I’m not too thrilled about heading into the Guard stronghold. People get squirrelly when you mess with their food. And another thing that has me concerned is what Pembroke has in mind.” Mike reflected.

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re going in with a small force, right? Even if we somehow get a pallet jack and maneuver it around in the tunnels, how much food are we really going to get away with? Pembroke isn’t going to pull this job for a lousy couple of cases; I know the man. He’s in for it all. If he’s strong enough to stop the Demons, then he has an army, and if he has an army…”

“He needs to feed them.” Tynes answered.

“Exactly.”

“So what are we, then?”

“I’m thinking the vanguard.” Mike tipped his Pop-Tart packet to get the last crumbs.

“You think we’re leading an invasion force?” Tynes was concerned.

“I do. We’re going to open up the gates, and he’s going to pour his men in. And I don’t know what’s going to be worse, a pissed-off Guard or a victorious Pembroke.”

“He’ll have all that weaponry. Mike, we can’t let that happen.”

“Wee bit late.” Mike had gone to the window to see the approach of headlights. “Our chariot awaits.”

“We can run,” Tynes said doubtfully.

“Where we gonna go? He’ll unleash hell on this neighborhood you so valiantly want to defend.”

“They have nothing to do with it.”

“Yeah, that matters.” Mike said sarcastically.

“What do we do?”

“We do what we said we were going to do.”

“If we’re not going to do anything to stop his plan, then why in the hell did you bother telling me about it?”

“Why should I be the only one in on the fun?” Mike asked.

“And what do you think our friend is going to do with all this power should he come out on top?”

“What all megalomaniacs do. Seek more power.”

“What if we tipped the Guard?” Tynes wondered aloud.

“Well, their justice would be more swift, I suppose, but dead is dead. You ready to cash in your chips right now?”

“What have you got me involved in?”

“Hey man, I don’t have a crystal ball, and the Guard was your idea. We still need food. I’m about sick of foil packets, and I don’t think many of those folks out there are faring too much better. Can’t imagine too many of them are used to a Top Ramen and Pop-Tart diet.”

“One problem at a time.”

“That’s the spirit. Gear up, our ride is here.” Mike headed for the door.

Pembroke was not in the car, and the driver said nothing as Mike and Tynes got in.

“I’m new to the city. Do you know where we can get a good pastrami sandwich?” Mike asked. The driver grunted and pulled away. Thirty minutes later, they found themselves at Pembroke’s headquarters; he’d moved from his more humble surroundings to the Trump Tower.

“Holy shit,” Mike said when he stepped out and looked up the face of the skyscraper. Trucks of all kinds lined the streets in both directions.

“He’s waiting for you inside,” the driver motioned.

The lobby had some lights on and was full of men dressed in all manner of combat gear, most pieced together from personal collections; some was theirs, some had belonged to people they’d been liberated from.

“Guess you were right,” Tynes mumbled. “I was hoping you weren’t.”

“Me too. What floor is Pembroke on?” Mike asked the closest man, who seemed to be a mercenary. He had on a green cut-off t-shirt that exposed well-defined muscles, camouflage pants, and a red bandanna around his head, and he was chewing on a thick yellow straw. The man pulled out a knife nearly as long as his forearm. He had an Army wings tattoo that signified him as Airborne.

The man grunted.

“What’s the matter, man, they already have enough extras on the Full Metal Jacket 2 set?”

“Don’t do it, Chester. It ain’t worth it. The Man will string you up by the balls and make you cut them off to get down,” Juicy said from across the room.

“You’re lucky,” Chester snorted as he put his small sword away.

“Lucky? Have you seen my bodyguard?” Mike asked, flipping a thumb to Tynes. Chester’s eyes momentarily grew wide as he saw the man for the first time. “Juicy, my dear, lifelong friend, seems the apocalypse has been good to you. Did you get your hair cut?”

“I wish Pembroke would let me kill you.”

“Why is there so much hostility? I already told you I didn’t know that was your mom. How was I supposed to know you had a thing for her?”

Juicy flipped Mike off. “Top floor. Get your ass up there.”

“What is wrong with you, man?” Tynes asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

“Nerves.”

“So, a case of the jitters makes you want to get a bullet in the face?”

“At least I wouldn’t be so nervous anymore.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. Must have a hell of a generator going to power this building.” Tynes noted.

When they reached the sixty-eighth floor, they were met by a trio of guards pointing fully automatic weapons at them. Mike instinctually raised his hands; Tynes looked like he was going to rush them.

“Whoa there, man.” Mike grabbed Tynes arm. “Who has the death wish now?”

“Security...one can never be too careful,” they heard from inside the elevator. Mike poked his head out, seeing the camera and speaker. He waved. “Please, hand over your guns.”

Mike did so; Tynes did, but reluctantly.

“Relax, man, if he wanted us dead we would have never made it out of our house this morning.”

“My house.”

“That’s what I said. Lead on, Jeeves,” Mike told the guard now holding their guns.

They were led through the elevator foyer and onto the floor, which had been converted into the world’s largest office space and living quarters. The floor offered a three hundred sixty-degree view of the entire city.

“Wow.” Mike was genuinely awed as he took in the spectacular view. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Central Park like this.”

“I’m pleased you’re enjoying yourself.” Pembroke stood from a desk that must have taken a team of men to get into the building.

“What happened to the occupants of the building?” Tynes asked with a scowl.

“They were asked to leave...nicely, I might add.” Pembroke smiled.

“And those that didn’t?”

“They were asked to leave not so nicely. Relax, Officer Tynes, no one was harmed in the making of my dynasty.”

“Gotta say, I’m impressed. Much better than your old setup.” Mike walked around.

“I’m glad you like it. There’s still room for you up near the top, Mike.” Pembroke turned away from Tynes.

“I would, but me and the big guy have this thing, and I’d hate to disappoint him.”

“I could fix that.”

“I’m good, Pembroke, I’m good. You know I don’t play well with others. I’d end up being a thorn in your side, and I’d hate to have to clock my hang-time from this high.”

Pembroke laughed. “I have to admit, I was concerned with whether or not you two would show.”

“What’s with the mercs downstairs?” Tynes asked.

Pembroke did not beat around the bush. “I have decided to change the terms of our agreement. I don’t want some of the food, I want all of it.”

“The Guard isn’t just going to let you have it.”

Pembroke looked at Tynes. “I am well aware of that, officer. But the National Guard has proved themselves to be nothing but a plague upon the citizens of New York.”

“And you’re taking it upon yourself to rid us of this scourge?”

“See, now we understand each other.”

“What gives you the right?” Tynes asked, leaning on Pembroke’s enormous desk.

“The right? I’m merely a concerned citizen watching as a governmental force delivers justice without impunity, hoards resources meant for a suffering populace, then sits upon a throne, dictating its will upon those of us trying to lead as normal a life as possible given the circumstances.”

“Seems you’re doing all right.”

“I’m doing all right because I have the necessary resources to succeed, and with those very resources, I am going to improve the lives of hundreds, thousands, maybe more.”

“At what cost? Are you to become King of New York?”

“I was thinking more of a Lordship, but King Pembroke does have a certain “je ne sais quois”.

“The feds will send in the Armed Forces.”

“Perhaps they might have at one time, but I do not believe they will bother much with the coup of a city as far gone as this one. They’re about to have bigger problems. I can see by both of your expressions that you have no idea what I’m talking about. All their attention was diverted by the Yellowstone detonation, the cowardly attacks in Boston, California, and just today, Chicago, God rest their souls.” Mike noted that Pembroke did not look up as was traditional when uttering this phrase. The man continued. “However, these attacks are just the beginning. They were merely meant to soften this country up. As we sit here discussing the morality of ridding the city of the Guard rats, there is a multi-national force planning an invasion of what is left of the United States. They mean to carve up what remains to call their own.”

“Bullshit,” Tynes spat.

Pembroke went back to his desk and sat. “You naively think those bombs were isolated events? It’s been a month, Officer Tynes. Do you have any explanation as to why we have not seen any federal organization? Not FEMA, not even the Red Cross, nothing, not so much as one soldier. Besides the fact that men and women are deserting the Armed Forces in record numbers, even under the threat of death by firing squad, the federal government—what’s left of it, anyway—is attempting to pool all of her resources in a desperate, and ultimately destined to fail, attempt to thwart her enemies.”

“Is this true?” Mike looked from Tynes to Pembroke. “How can this be happening?”

“And what do you hope to gain, Mr. Pembroke, if we are indeed about to be invaded?”

“Simple enough. I want my piece of the pie. When I am in a position of power, I can negotiate.”

“And you just think the Russians are going to give you whatever you want?”

“North Koreans and Chinese, actually. They are, at least, the front-runners. The Chinese are taking a backseat, using their more volatile neighbor to the east as their spearhead. I believe they are waiting to see how the international community reacts. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Nobody likes a winner, and the United States has been winning for over two hundred years. There will be protests, but in the end, new borders will be drawn all over our land.”

Mike sat down heavily. “I’ve been talking doom and gloom, but I always had hope in the back of my head that somehow, someway, things would return to normal. That’s all for shit, isn’t it?”

“It would appear that way, Michael,” Pembroke said almost tenderly.

“You falling for this shit, Mike?”

Mike had tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Why would he lie? What’s the point?”

“He wants those barracks, dumbass. He wants those weapons.”

“And he concocted this whole story to ensure our help getting in? What, man? The threat of having your skull smashed in with a ball peen hammer not enough incentive?”

“Please, Michael, I would never do anything so crude. You’ve earned at least a quick and merciful death. Bullet to the back of the head perhaps.”

“I guess thanks for that.”

“I can assure you, Officer Tynes, with or without your help, I can gain access to and take that Guard barracks. More men will die on both sides if we do it my way, however, and your community will get none of the food. The choice is yours.”

“Plus, we die, Tynes.”

“Plus, you die,” Pembroke reiterated.

“You really think you can negotiate with an invading force?” Tynes asked, seeing the losing argument he was fighting.

“You let me worry about that.”

“We do this, we get the food, and we get the hell out of the city. Maybe even the country.” Mike intoned.

“The borders are closed.”

“I have no desire to go to Mexico.”

“Canada as well.”

“Fucking Canada is closed? The world is ending.” Mike tossed his head back. “Tynes, I don’t want to die in the penthouse suite of the Trump Tower.”

“It’s Pembroke Pavilion now,” Pembroke clarified. “And don’t be silly, I wouldn’t have you killed up here. That’s a priceless Persian you’re standing on.”

“Tynes?” Mike saw his friend’s arms flex and relax as he weighed the odds of rushing the three men and disarming them before getting either of them wounded or killed.

“When this is over, are we free to leave?” Tynes asked.

“Certainly, I’m not running a dictatorship.”

Tynes thought he’d seen more sincere faces on used-car salesmen, but pointing that out could get him a bullet in the kneecap...or worse. He wisely chose to keep it to himself.

“Looks like we have a raid to lead.”

“Splendid, I was concerned for your wellbeing.”

“Don’t even start with me,” Mike said as they got in the elevator. “You know we need that food. The grocery stores are cleaned out, and unless you want to try and grow some turnips down in the park, this is the best way.”

The elevator doors opened. Mike almost stepped back; Tynes moved forward. “Murkediem,” they said at the same time. The leader of the D Street Demons strode toward them. He was nearly as tall as Tynes though half the width. He wore a leather vest emblazoned with the signature “D” embellished with horns. He had so many tears tattooed on his face that it looked like he’d been caught in a particularly nasty acid rain storm. Each tattoo signified a kill he had chalked up. It was rumored that the first tear was for his mother after she’d tried to keep him from joining the gang long ago.

He had much shorter hair than Mike remembered, but he still had that scowl on his face with his eyebrows pulled tight into a perpetual signal of anger. A protruding forehead hid dark, blazing, merciless eyes. Mike scooted around to the side to get out of his way, taking great note of the man’s snakeskin boots as he looked down. If Murkediem recognized them, he said nothing as he got on the elevator.

“Fuck,” Mike said as he stepped out of the building. “Well, now we know how Pembroke got them off our backs.”

“They’re in collusion.”

“You’re pretty quick for a cop.” Mike hugged himself. “Did you feel that? That fucking guy has evil radiating off him; wouldn’t doubt if he really was a demon.”

“He’s no devil, he’s human—maybe even less so, the scum bag. I tossed him in jail once. He was so high on meth and heroin he shit all over himself in lock up. I left him that way the entire weekend. Said he was going to kill me at least a dozen times. We’re in over our heads, Mike.”

Mike said nothing. He bummed a cigarette off Juicy. “Didn’t think you’d give me one.”

“I can’t kill you outright. I figure these will catch up to you some day.”

“Good to have a long-term plan.” Mike leaned in to get the smoke lit. “You knew about Murkediem?”

“I like him less than you.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose.”

Forty-five minutes later, Tynes, Mike, and nearly seventy-five heavily armed men made their way down into the subway station at Thirty-First and Woodside. The darkness was only held slightly at bay by a smattering of candles from the people who called this place their home. Helmet lights lit up the entire area. Tynes led the way, hopping down off the platform and onto the railway.

The homeless living there scrambled away as the force came down. It was best in this new world to avoid others; certainly those that looked even remotely organized and this was no exception. Mike was affected by what he saw. They’d been in the tunnels for over fifteen minutes and they still kept coming across people in couples and small groups, sometimes whole families, and the thing they all had in common was the haunted look of the hopeless. Dirt covered their faces, starvation had begun to hollow out their cheeks, giving them a gaunt, devastated expression.

“How much farther?” Juicy asked when Tynes led them down a disused passage. Heavy dust coated every surface and hung in the air—a lung-choking sheer curtain.

“Another mile,” Tynes said.

A few of the men were getting fidgety. Mike noticed this because he was one of them.

“Not a fan, man. Being this far underground sucks. What if the flashlights go out?”

“All seventy-five of them?” Tynes retorted.

“It could happen; then it would be just like that cave story. We wouldn’t be able to see anything, and these sub-human creatures that live underground would come after us and try to eat us.”

“Like zombies?” Tynes asked.

“Zombies? No man, I’m talking things that can actually happen. Zombies don’t exist.”

“Oh, but apparently mole-people who feed on other humans do?”

“Right.”

They walked a little farther, Mike lost in his thoughts of cannibalistic cave dwellers, every shadow a potential enemy.

“How much do you trust Pembroke?”

“In what way?” Mike pulled his gaze from the nooks and crannies where threats could lie in wait.

“We give him entry and then he gets rid of us. Nobody would know. Have you thought about that?”

“I hadn’t until now, but thanks for the distraction.”

“I’m serious, Mike.”

“I gathered that. When someone talks about someone else killing them, it generally stems from a serious conversation. I think he’s mostly trustworthy.”

“Mostly. Wow, that just sends tingly fingers of goodness traveling throughout my entire body.”

“There’s a visual that’ll haunt me.” Mike shook his head rapidly back and forth, hoping to shake the imagery free. “To be fair, he could off us at any time.”

“Mike.”

“Fine. It doesn’t make any sense, him killing us.”

“Sure it does, he doesn’t have to share.”

“Well, okay, that makes sense. I don’t appreciate you making me think, Tynes.”

“It’s our lives on the line here. I think you can take a moment and make the effort.”

“Pembroke might be a criminal.”

Tynes frowned at him.

“Okay, we know he’s a criminal, and he deals in the black market. But to be successful and stay alive, you have to be honest in your dealings. You don’t get to his position by screwing people over.”

“This is a little different, Mike. He’s no longer fencing stolen goods or moving smuggled items, he’s shooting for King of New York, and one of the ways he’s going to be able to pull that off is with the promise of food, and lots of it. Kings have notoriously been known to be selfish types.”

“So now we have to worry about being killed by the National Guard, mole men, and Pembroke’s people? This is turning out to be an entirely shitty day.”

“There are no mole men.” Tynes rolled his eyes as he spoke.

“You don’t know that. What about alligators?”

“Mike, focus.”

“The Pembroke I know wouldn’t do that. If we hold up our end of the agreement, he will hold up his.”

“We’ll have to go with that then. We’re here,” Tynes said in a loud voice.

“Here? It looks the same as every other place.” Juicy was one of the people that was not enjoying the closed-in, cramping feel of the darkness.

“Nevertheless…” Tynes strode over to a wall that did indeed look like any other part of the tunnel. “Right here.” He smacked the flat of his palm against the brick.

Two men with sledgehammers came up. The first several hits sounded very solid as if the wall were many feet thick. If Tynes was wrong and there was no entrance, this would indeed be their final resting place. Mike didn’t think the mole men cared whether their food was warm or cold. He subtly backed up a few paces, it was then he noticed that he was hemmed in, nothing overt like a dense ring of interlocked arms, but it was clear to him he was being watched and that leaving the group was not an option.

“Now might be the only chance we have,” Tynes said softly next to him.

“You noticed too?”

The solid hammer strikes began to take on a softer, hollower tone. The man that broke through first lost his grip, his sledge clattering onto the ground on the other side of the hole.

“Idiot,” Juicy berated him. “That doesn’t mean you should stop swinging,” he told the other man. Three hits later, enough bricks had fallen to the ground that Juicy could fit his head through. “It’s just another tunnel.” He turned to Tynes.

“I didn’t say it opened up to the National Guard warehouse; I said it led to it.”

“You better hope you’re right.”

“And if I’m not?”

Juicy laughed cruelly. “Well, let’s just say I get to fulfill a long-running dream of mine.” He turned to Mike to deliver those words.

Mike gulped hard. “Well, I guess that answers that question.”

Five minutes later, the hole was wide enough for the men to fit through. The original sledge swinger grabbed his hammer as he went through.

“What are you planning on doing with that?” Juicy asked him.

“It seems a waste to leave it here.”

“No, what really seems a waste is that we brought you.” This got a few laughs from the men. “We’re about to get in a gunfight and you’re going to bring a hammer?”

The man sheepishly put it down.

“Juicy, you need to keep your men quiet. We’re coming up to the access point.”

The volume dropped considerably once the word was passed. To Mike, though, it sounded like everything had been amplified. He knew enough to realize it was because his senses were now heightened, but that did little to lessen his anxiety that they’d be discovered and shot like fish in a barrel—or men in a narrow, darkened tunnel.

Tynes counted off his steps. When he got to twenty-two, he looked up, off to the right, and nearly fifteen feet up was a supply cover. “Anyone bring a ladder?”

“You didn’t say nothing about no ladder, Cop,” Juicy said, moving close.

Mike didn’t like that the man was so emboldened that he challenged Tynes. That could only mean that every man there had specific orders to keep Juicy safe and that Tynes and Mike were to be watched and not trusted.

“We’ve got enough people to make a pyramid,” Mike blurted out.

“What? Like cheerleaders?” Juicy asked.

“Sure, why not? Although, I find it a little disturbing that you knew what I meant. Once someone gets up there, they can get a rope or a ladder or something.”

“What are you, stupid?” Juicy asked. “Fucking puta.”

“Listen, maybe we are stupid, but I know if we don’t get up there, me and that rolling hill over there are pretty much mole men food.” Mike said.

“Mole men?” Juicy queried.

“Long story. Sure, we die down here, and that would suck. But what about you, Juicy?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to go back and tell Pembroke you failed, and not only that, you didn’t even try? You just gave up? How well do you think that will go over? And before you get any funny ideas, I just want to throw a wrench in the works in case you’re thinking about killing us and grabbing a ladder yourself. My safety is off, and my finger has the trigger about halfway back.” Mike’s expression was chilling, causing Juicy to look away to regain his composure.

“You going to kill us all, hero?” Juicy sneered.

“I might not kill any of you, but I guarantee if I blow off a couple of rounds, someone up there is going to hear it. And then they’ll know about this little entry point, and from now on and going forward, you can bet it will be guarded and protected heavily.”

Juicy stepped closer, flashing a blade.

“One fucking inch, one fucking inch closer, Juicy, and I continue pulling this trigger until I no longer can.”

Juicy’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “Someday, me and you are going to finish this. All right, we’ll do this your way…for now.”

Mike got ten of the biggest men he could to create the base of his pyramid, and within four layers of grunting men, he had the height he thought would be necessary for someone to climb up and move the grate.

“All set,” he said triumphantly.

“Get your ass up there then,” Juicy told him.

“Me? You want me to go up there?”

“Yeah, and before you think of doing anything stupid, like alerting the Guard, just remember your friend will be down here with us.”

“I don’t really like him that much, he’s into cats, health food, and fancy pillows.”

“Go,” Juicy ordered.

“That doesn’t look very stable.”

“Get your ass up there.”

“I suppose it won’t matter if I tell you I’m afraid of heights.”

Juicy motioned to the pile.

“Avenge me, Tynes, and keep your damned finger on the trigger,” Mike said as he put his rifle across his back, the sling bisecting his body at an angle. He pulled it tight so it wouldn’t move around. The men above reached down and helped him up as he stepped on various body parts, apologizing profusely as he did so. When he got to the top, he gingerly stood up, swaying slightly with the pile. Two men had reached out and were holding his calves, trying to keep him from toppling over. Mike raised his arms and pushed against the grate. At first, nothing happened except the accumulated moan of those below him as he forced more pressure on them. Then, when he thought there was no way he would be able to move the thing, there was a loud creak and the screech of rusted metal grinding against the lip. Mike gave one final heave, the resulting pop sounded like a firecracker. Seventy-four men held their breath, waiting to see if they would be discovered. Mike cautiously pushed the grate all the way up.

“All right guys, I’m going through. Let go of my legs.” He did not like the feeling in the least as he began to wobble. He timed his jump to make sure his hands would go through the hole; even so, he caught his left pinkie finger on the edge and stifled a string of swears. He got his elbows up onto the warehouse floor and muscled himself up and through. The warehouse wasn’t much brighter than the tunnels, but he decided to err on the side of caution as he reached up and turned his helmet light off.

“I’m in,” he whispered, sticking his head back down. The pyramid below was slowly beginning to unravel.

“Get a fucking ladder, asshole,” Juicy said, a little louder than Mike appreciated.

“Holy shit,” Mike said when he stood and finally looked around.

“What’s ‘holy shit’?” Juicy asked.

“This place is full of food.” Mike put the grate back in place just in the off chance someone came by and noticed a hole in the floor. “Where the hell am I going to find a ladder? And even if I do, there’s no way it’s going to fit through that opening. Gonna have to find a rope.”

Mike moved very cautiously at first, expecting guards to flood out from in between the rows of shelving at any moment. Once he realized he was alone, he moved quicker, heading for the walls, figuring if there were any tools to be found, they would be there. He knew there was an imaginary timer running, that, when it reached zero, Tynes’ life would be forfeit. He wished he knew how many minutes he had. The far wall yielded nothing of any use. He saw large doors that he figured led outside. He needed to find a supply or tool shed. He was not going to find what he needed here, but the chances of being caught out there were greatly increased. Just as he was getting ready to head out, he saw shelves of uniforms.

“Never pictured myself in cammies. Sure as shit hope I have these on the right way,” Mike said softly as he laced his boots. “Now what?” Mike was acutely aware of the timer ticking down in the tunnels. He steeled himself, grasped the handle to the warehouse door, and went outside, plunging himself into the hazy sunlight. He wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but certainly not what he saw. He figured personnel would be shuffling about doing all sorts of various military-type things while a drill sergeant yelled at them. Instead, the vast majority of those he did see were just lounging. A grill was cooking something to his far left, the sweet smell of slowly charring flesh making him drool. He wiped his chin and nearly went over to see if he could grab a hamburger. Cheering shouts from an intense game of volleyball being played in the massive courtyard startled and confused him.

“I am slightly overdressed,” he said as he looked at everyone. He didn’t know much about military life, but he was sure that the decorum had lapsed severely. Most had no hats on, some had cut their pants into shorts, some only had on their olive drab t-shirts and various pants, almost no one had on a camo top. He was afraid that by trying to blend in he was consequently sticking out like a sore thumb.

“A little help!” a soldier shouted when a ball rolled toward Mike’s feet. Mike bent and picked up the ball. He gasped when he saw a soldier running toward him. It wasn’t so much the man coming for the ball as it was the small family sitting off to the side watching the match.

Mike’s attention came back when the man clapped. “Come on man, give it up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike said, lightly tossing the ball back. Mike wondered what Tynes would do if he saw that this place was full of women and children. “Hey, where’s the commander of this place?”

“Fucking noob,” the man said, catching the ball. “Are you from the Buffalo 26th?”

“Sure.” Mike thought he saw questions race across the man’s visage, but he was being pressured to return to the game. “Should be in his office over there.” The man pointed and bounded off.

What’s the plan, Mike? Well, I don’t really have one but I have fifty yards to come up with one. Kids were screeching as they played tag or shot fake guns at each other. A small class of middle-school-aged children were sitting under a tree with a female soldier who was reading them a book. Whatever it was, they seemed rapt. He caught one of the questions from a student as he passed by.

“So, the Progerians are the ruling class?” the young boy asked.

“That’s right Tommy,” the woman beamed.

“God, she’s beautiful.” Mike was staring; her stunning blue-green eyes were framed in a shock of red hair that illuminated the freckles lining her nose.

“You should take a picture, it would last longer!” one of the girls giggled, pointing to Mike. The entire class turned to look at Mike, whose face was burgeoning into a bright red.

“Ma’am,” he said, tilting his hat and moving away quickly.

Mike expected a bevy of guards and security measures when all he needed to do was knock on the door marked “commander.” He thought for sure no one would be inside.

“Enter!” came an authoritative voice. Mike stepped in to see a fit man in his early fifties sitting behind a desk, his salt and pepper hair closely cropped to his head, his uniform immaculately pressed. “A corporal in my beloved Guard should know enough to not be donning his cover indoors.”

Mike looked at him strangely. “Your hat son, take your damned hat off.”

“Oh, right. Sorry sir.”

“Well, I’m a busy man. Just because I have an open door policy doesn’t mean I really like to have it open.”

Mike turned and closed the door.

“That’s not really what I meant.” His eyes grew wide for a split second as he noticed the gun Mike had out but then they quickly calmed. “Well, make your point.”

“I’m in a bit of a mess, sir.”

“We can work this out.”

“I hope so, but I’m not seeing the way.”

“You obviously came here with an agenda. Why don’t you tell me, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“This conversation needs to start off with me and my friend not getting shot.”

“What would necessitate your getting shot?”

Mike suddenly came clean to the commander. How they were on a quest for food and got mixed up with Pembroke and now there was a force of men right this very minute under the supply warehouse along with a small army heading this way to take the compound by force. Colonel Benford began to rise.

“I need some assurances, Colonel, before I can let you go.”

“Let me go? There is an imminent invasion, soldier. I need to get my men in place. What are you prepared to do if I don’t give you what you want?”

Mike eased the trigger back. “I’m not dying in front of a firing squad.”

“You kill me, you kill all those people out there. You’ve obviously got a conscience or you wouldn’t have sought me out.”

“Sir, Colonel, Officer Tynes and I were just trying to get some food for our neighborhood; we’re on the brink of starving. We have no desire to be part of, or witness to, any battles or murders. We got pulled into something much bigger than we bargained for. I’m asking you for a way out.”

“Too late, son. I know this Pembroke fellow. He’s not going to back down. We had word he was looking to attack. Just didn’t figure it would be so soon or that he would come upon an alternate means to gain entry. So, you say they’re waiting on you for a ladder or a rope?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“What’s changed your mind about what you’re doing here?”

“Kids, and, err, teachers, sir. I didn’t think there’d be any, figured it would be a bunch of guys just running around acting all military-like. This doesn’t look like the Guard we’ve been hearing all the stories about.”

“We tried to help, son.”

“Mike, my name is Mike.”

“Mike, when the National Emergency and the curfew were put into place, that was exactly our intent: to restore order and preserve our way—everyone’s way—of life as best we could. We weren’t out there more than two days when our convoys started getting attacked. Lost more men in two weeks on the streets of New York than I did in two years in Afghanistan. It was a civil war, plain and simple, and we fought back. Breaking curfew or looting...those are execution worthy offenses under martial law; those were our orders. We did our best to not fire indiscriminately, but more and more we found that to hesitate meant risking our own lives needlessly. I tried to get federal assistance. There were vague promises, and every once in a while we’d get a few new guardsmen, but nothing like we’d hoped. We house twenty-five hundred men here and triple that in family members. We just do not have the manpower to police and patrol a city of over fourteen million. Between the gangs and marauders, we’re out-manned at least ten to one. And with each passing day, people become more desperate. If we tried to deliver this food right now, we’d come under intense fire. The supplies would be snatched by men like Pembroke and the starving population of citizenry would never see a drop of it. Some think we’re hiding out, but the truth is we’re trapped. So now the question is, what are you going to do?”

“Tynes and me walk away when this is done.”

“I can’t do that.”

Mike’s head sagged. “Tynes walks away then. I’m the one that put him in contact with Pembroke.”

“You would sacrifice yourself for your friend?”

“I would. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have made it this long.”

The colonel looked long and hard at Mike. “Done. Let’s stop this before it gets out of hand.”

Mike put the gun down. The colonel opened the door; Mike walked out.

“Sergeant Yonts, get two platoons assembled as quickly and quietly as possible.”

The woman that had been reading to her class abruptly stopped, stood, and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“This is not a drill, I want ninety troops locked and loaded and ready for action. Meet me at warehouse three.”

The sergeant looked at Mike for a second and then went off to follow the colonel’s orders.

“You sure about this?” the colonel asked. He led Mike to a supply shed and handed him a long rope.

“None of it, Colonel, but my life is already forfeit. Double crossing Pembroke is not conducive to longevity. Plus, now he thinks he’s King of New York. I can’t see that working out well.”

“I thought the talk of his inflated ego was just that.”

“Not so much. Why the rope?” Mike asked, finally realizing he had possession of it.

“If we don’t let them up, your friend is as good as dead. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then we let them up.”

“Fuck, I wish I’d stayed in Boston.”

“Boston was destroyed.”

“Exactly.” Mike was more afraid than he could ever remember being, but not for himself. It was for Tynes, the families here, and maybe a little extra for the redheaded sergeant who seemed to have some strange pull on his heart.

Within three minutes, Sergeant Yonts was running toward the warehouse, ninety men and women in tow. All were fully dressed in battle gear with a full complement of weaponry. The volleyball game halted mid-strike. The soldiers turned “all business,” realizing something was going down. At a single command the spouses and kids dropped what they were doing and headed inside as they’d been taught.

“What the fuck took you so long?!” Juicy shouted up when Mike looked down. “Couple more minutes and I was going to plug this pig’s ass.”

“You should maybe think your words through before you speak, Juicy,” Mike said as he dropped the rope down. “Hold on, let me tie this end off.” Mike ran over to the nearest shelf and began to tie a granny knot. Sergeant Yonts shook her head and came out of the shadows to tie a sailor’s knot. “All set,” Mike said down the hole.

“Get your face out of the way. I’m sick of seeing it,” Juicy said.

That’s the plan, asshat, Mike said to himself.

Mike helped as Juicy sent two men through. He could only hope that not too many more would come before Juicy let Tynes up the rope. Mike’s relief was nearly palpable when Tynes grunted his way up twenty-fourth in line. Mike pulled his knife from its sheath.

“When I say ‘get down’, hit the deck.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Now!” Mike cut the rope with one swift slash. There was a grunt and a loud snapping as the man below broke his leg on the hard concrete floor below.

“Put your weapons down!” Sergeant Yonts ordered. Guardsmen materialized all around the insurgents.

“It’s a trap!” Chester yelled, firing his rifle.

Mike pulled Tynes to the floor, or more likely, Tynes allowed himself to fall down as the guard returned fire, immediately dropping the war movie extra wannabe who’d pulled a knife on Mike earlier. Two more men were shot before the rest dropped their guns and held their hands up.

Mike was close to the hole and could see Juicy staring back up at him.

“You’re dead!” Juicy told him before what was left of the invading force took off down the tunnel.

“Fire in the hole!” Sergeant Yonts yelled as she dropped two grenades in quick succession down the drain. Tynes rolled Mike away from the blast zone. The floor rattled as the blasts echoed through the tunnel “Get up, you two.” Mike stared down the barrel of a fully automatic M-16, smoke still drifting from the barrel after the brief firefight.

Tynes helped Mike up. Colonel Benford walked in casually as if this were something he encountered every day. Blood began to pool and flow toward the drain from the three that had died.

“Search them and throw them in the stockade.” His hands clasped behind his back, thick smoke rotated around his head from the cigar he was smoking.

Sergeant Yonts shoved Mike.

“These two stay,” the colonel told her.

“What’s going on, Mike?” Tynes’ hands were still in the air. Mike was rubbing his elbow where it had crashed down and then been driven onto the floor by the over-protective cop.

“Surprise,” Mike said weakly.

Tynes couldn’t have been more confused if he’d been dropped into a foreign city with nothing but a bag of marshmallows. Then his face dawned in recognition. “The girl, it was the girl, wasn’t it?”

Mike shrugged.

The colonel waited until Pembroke’s men were escorted out and to the stockade before turning. “Officer Tynes, I take it?” He extended his hand. Tynes took it, not knowing what else to do. “Colonel Benford.”

“Excuse me, Colonel, could someone tell me what is going on here?”

“Your friend here had a moral conflict. Or perhaps it was a hormonal one. I had not thought of that,” he mused. “But, either way, he confessed your entire situation.”

Tynes had more questions, but he felt they were on shaky ground, and he had no desire to see how rickety his footing actually was.

“Now what?” Mike asked the colonel dejectedly.

“Mike?” Tynes looked at him.

“Your friend gave himself up so that you could go free.”

“What? I didn’t ask for that.”

“Nevertheless, that is the deal that’s been struck.”

“So what happens to Mike?”

“That’s for me to worry about.”

“It’s my problem as well, Colonel. He’s sort of become a project of mine, and I hate to leave things half finished.”

“Half finished?” Mike asked.

A klaxon blared throughout the compound, halting the rest of the conversation. Mike pointed to his gun.

“We’re on the same side, at least for a little while,” he told the colonel. “You heard my good friend Juicy. He knows I flipped, and by now, so does Pembroke. We’re in this together now. I know my life is forfeit; let me go out fighting with the guard.”

The colonel nodded curtly. “You so much as spit in the wrong direction and I’ll have you drawn and quartered.”

“You still do that shit?”

“I’ll bring it back just for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a fort to defend. I’ll send the sergeant back for you two. You do whatever she tells you to do. Billings, get ten men and watch this hole. Kenton, Riggs, you two stay here until reinforcements come then get back to your battle stations.”

Mike waited until the colonel left then went over to the shelving to grab hold of an MRE carton.

“Mike, what the hell is going on? And are you really going to do that?” he asked as Mike tore the top off. The two guards gave a quick glance over and seemed to lose interest with the petty theft.

“I’m starving, and I might be in front of a firing squad by the end of the night. I’m eating something.”

“Turning yourself in and facing a potential firing squad sounded like a good idea? Mike, come on, man. We can still get out of here.”

“Not a chance, I sealed my fate the second I walked outside and saw the kids playing.”

“Kids?”

“Well, the kids and the women watching them.”

“Women and kids, my ass. You got a look at that redhead, and before you could reel your tongue back in, your dick got you busted.”

“Something like that. But she was still surrounded by kids.”

“That’s why you ratted on the most dangerous thug in New York?”

“Pembroke is insane. He’d have killed everyone in here, and still might, to get his tin crown. Say what you will, but I saw those families, and the thought of me being on the side that killed them didn’t sit well. I brokered a deal that got you out of this shit storm. End of story.”

“And where do you think I’m going to go? You think because I didn’t know anything about your boneheaded move, Pembroke isn’t going to put me in an acid wash?”

“Leave the state. Leave the country if you can. I bought you a chance.”

“Yeah, with your life.”

“Don’t give me that crap. If you’d seen what I had, you would have done the same thing. Fuck man, why do they put these things in nuclear-proof packaging?” Mike was struggling to open up a plastic sleeve labeled Tuna Casserole.

Tynes grabbed it out of his hands and tore it as easily as if it were made from tissue paper.

“Thanks. I must have got it started.” Mike was hastily squeezing the contents into his mouth like an over-sized tube of toothpaste when Sergeant Yonts came back in.

“You two know how to shoot?” Sergeant Yonts handed them both M16s and three full magazines.

Mike nodded dumbly, a noodle falling from his mouth and smacking wetly on the floor.

“I was a cop,” Tynes answered.

“My father was a cop,” Yonts answered. “He used to bring me to the range all the time with some of his police buddies. A good number of them couldn’t hit the paper from fifteen yards.”

“I can shoot.”

“And you?”

“I’m Mike.”

“What’s with your friend? Is he ‘special needs?’”

“The jury’s still out on that, but he can shoot.”

“Let’s go then.” They were not quite running, but the pace was brisk.

“You’re not in the Guard are you?” She didn’t wait for Mike to respond before asking the next question. “How do you know the colonel?”

“I’m his illegitimate son,” Mike said, removing his eyes from the soldier’s backside. “And this is my cousin on my brother’s side.”

“Uh huh. I want you up on the roof of the barracks. This overlooks the least likely avenue of approach. It should be far enough from the main action to keep you two out of trouble. Corporal Hernandez is up there. He’s in charge. Private Delano is a medic. If either of you break a nail or something, talk to him.”

“And where are you going?” Mike asked.

“Where I’m needed.”

Mike almost said she was needed with him until Tynes, sensing Mike’s response, elbowed him.

“Fuck, man,” Mike said, rubbing his ribcage. “Will you try and remember you’re like seven times the size of us puny humans before you start smacking me around?”

“Quit your bitching; we’re alone. Have you maybe been thinking of an exit strategy? I’m not going to go walk off into the sunset while they put you in front of a wall.”

“I think that door has been closed.” The roar of engines could be heard over the barking of orders being delivered to various points along the Guard line. “Holy shit.” Mike was looking down the street at a long line of trucks and cars, and he thought he caught a glimpse of a SWAT tactical vehicle or two.

“Looks like your sergeant miscalculated this particular approach.”

“You think she’s mine?”

Tynes looked at Mike queerly. “You have a warped sense of priorities, my friend. There’s a good chance Pembroke’s men will kill us, or if we win, the colonel kills you, and yet you’re still thinking about that woman?”

“Seems to me I have all my priorities in order, and you just called me friend, by the way.”

“Figure of speech. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“It’s just nice to know you care.”

“We’re going to need more ammunition.”

Ten guardsmen joined them on the roof. Mike walked over and grabbed an ammo can without saying a word.

“I’ll say one thing, man; you have balls of steel.”

“What are they going to do? Kill me? Seems like they’d have to get in line.” Mike put the box down between them.

Tynes shook his head. Vehicles kept coming, the lead ones, which were heavy dump trucks, stopping within fifty yards of the entire structure on all sides.

“This is well choreographed.” Tynes looked around.

“Got to be a thousand or more cars.” Mike did not like the looks of this. “That’s Pembroke’s limo.” A car had gone around one of the trucks and was approaching slowly. A white flag was tied to the antenna. “I could just nail Pembroke and this would all be over.”

“He’s coming under a white flag.”

“Cancer comes in a white-wrapped cigarette. Wouldn’t it just be better to stomp it under your heel?”

“It’s strange to me when you actually make sense. You set a bad precedent firing on a truce though, or firing at all for that matter.”

“Don’t care. My life hangs in the balance and maybe the lives of everyone in this compound.”

“Including the sergeant.”

“Mostly the sergeant.”

“Nice to know where I stand.”

“Hey man, in the top one hundred people in my life, you almost crack the list.” Mike smiled.

“Something’s happening.” They both watched as the sunroof opened.

“It’s Murkediem,” Mike said resignedly, looking through the iron sights.

“National Guard Squadron Fifty-Four!” Murkediem shouted through a bullhorn.

“You think Pembroke’s in that car?” Mike asked.

“You know the man better than anybody here. What do you think?”

“I think I’d like to pepper that limo with as many rounds as I can and hope for the best before they get out of range. But kings don’t generally come out to the front. I’m thinking he’s holed up in one of those skyscrapers overlooking the entire thing. Shooting Murke wouldn’t exactly ruin my day either, though.”

“Hear him out at least.” Mike did a double take when he realized it was the sergeant.

“National Guard Squadron Fifty-Four,” he repeated. “I have been sent here as an ambassador for his Lordship David Pembroke.”

“What an arrogant bastard,” Tynes said.

“I offer you one chance, and one chance only, to prevent any bloodshed on either side and the annihilation of your facility.”

Jeers and boos arose from the guards’ defensive emplacements.

“Quiet!” boomed over the speaker system throughout the compound. The colonel was apparently listening to the potential usurpers demands. “What are your terms?” the colonel asked.

“First, his Lordship has requested that you hand over Michael Talbot and Officer Lawrence Tynes.”

Sergeant Yonts looked over to the pair. “That’s you two, I assume?”

“Depends,” Mike answered.

“On?” she asked.

“On whether or not the colonel capitulates to their demands.”

“He won’t.”

“Then I’m Mike and this big guy here is Lawrence.” Mike extended his hand. The sergeant did not take it.

“How many times have we been through this, Mike? My mother called me Lawrence. Everyone else got punched in the face until they figured it out.”

“Did any of them live?”

“Apparently you did, but not without concussive effects.”

“I’m trying to listen,” the sergeant shushed.

“I will think on this,” the colonel responded. “What next?”

“Once we have those two in our care—”

“Care my ass, more like a body bag,” Mike replied.

“Shut up,” Tynes and the sergeant hissed in unison.

“You, and everyone in there, will come out without their weapons.”

“And what will happen to us?”

“Happen? Nothing. You will be free to go wherever you please.”

“What assurances do I have of my people’s safety?”

“Why, Lord Pembroke’s word, of course,” he said, as if to question that were asinine.

“Murkediem is a psychopath. I watched him stick a knife in a man’s eyeball because of a bet. They’re as close to barbarians as can be without carrying a card that says they’re members of the New York Barbarians Club.”

“Do you ever not talk?” Yonts asked, genuinely curious.

“He’ll drone for hours,” Tynes informed her.

“I should have picked a quieter spot to fight this war,” the sergeant sighed.

“And if these demands are not met?” the colonel asked.

“There will be no quarter. Not for the women, the children, and certainly not the soldiers.” The jeering had started up again. More than one rifle could be heard ratcheting a round into the chamber.

“I would like to confer with my officers.”

“You have fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not enough time!” The Colonel barked back.

The limo turned into a bank parking lot and headed back toward the front lines and through.

“You heard the man’s demands,” the Colonel’s voice came through. “I know I am a colonel, and the leader of you band of misfits, but times have changed. Assuming they are sincere in their offering of amnesty, I want you all to have that option, especially those of you with family. If there are any among you that wish to leave, you have my blessing. No one will think less of you.”

Fellow soldier looked to fellow soldier to see which among them would do so.

“I’m probably going to stick around,” Mike said to anyone that was listening.

“Probably the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” Tynes said.

Though most stayed, there were those that wanted nothing to do with an armed conflict. Some had joined the Guard in times of peace, merely for the benefits, out of boredom, or from lack of drive to do anything else. A few had families and wanted to keep them safe. In all, sixty-seven men, women, and children headed to the gate with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few MREs.

Mike leaned over the edge of the building to shout. “Stop! You can’t go—he’ll kill you!”

“Fuck you” echoed up from below, punctuated with a middle finger.

“I know the man; he won’t let you live!”

Some hesitated, but were urged on by the others. Men watched with fresh anxiety as their fellow brothers and sisters in arms walked out.

“Whoa man, where you going?” Tynes had wrapped an arm around Mike’s waist as he leaned even further, as if being closer would somehow elicit a different response.

“They’re going to die.” There was a wild look in Mike’s eyes.

“You don’t know that. He offered them sanctuary.” The sergeant responded evenly, though her heart was racing with concern for those that were departing.

The world went frighteningly eerie and quiet as the group left the compound and began to walk down the street. A few of the refugees looked back to where they had come from every few steps or so. But most kept a watchful stare ahead for where the potential dangers lay. Everyone stopped suddenly, alerted when a truck started up, drove forward a few feet, then turned sideways, nearly blocking the entire width of the narrow avenue and stopping the exodus from the camp in its tracks.

“What the hell?” Tynes asked.

“There’re ports on the side of that truck bed.”

“What?” Sergeant Yonts asked, turning to look at Mike.

“There are cut outs, like cannon bays on old pirate ships,” Mike said.

The driver opened his door. He had a large smile plastered across his face. He waved the people to come forward, then he stepped down off the truck and walked around the side and behind. Most took that as a good sign, but others felt progressively more reluctant and began to lag behind, causing uncertainty to spread throughout the group. Mike’s heart began to hammer in his chest.

“What’s going on?” Sergeant Yonts asked when a man and a woman carrying a baby broke from the group and fled back toward the armory.

“It’s a fucking ambush.” Mike squinted into his scope, desperately seeking a target that had not yet exposed itself.

“They see it,” Tynes said right before the first rifle report rang out. A seven inch trap door on the side of the truck bed slid open, and the barrel of a rifle appeared. The man pulling his wife back towards the compound was hurtled forward as a bullet slammed into his back, sending him sprawling to the ground chin first, his arms rendered useless when the projectile severed his spine. His wife dropped down next to him, grabbing his arm. She stood and tried to drag him, her head rocked to the side as a bullet nearly scalped her, sending brain matter spewing all over the baby in her arms. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the child as she collapsed on the ground next to her dying husband.

Mike felt like things were happening in slow motion. He watched in horrifying detail as the woman’s mouth opened—he wouldn’t swear it on a stack of bibles, but he was pretty sure he witnessed her soul exit her body in a wisp of white. Two more ports slid open. Mike saw the muzzle of a wicked-looking machine gun poke out. Long licks of fire erupted from the barrel as multiple bullets flew downrange and into the confused, exposed group. People were nearly cut in half from the relentless hail of hot lead. Those that weren’t immediately gunned down, impotently sought a refuge they had no hope of reaching.

The dump truck was receiving return fire, but the ports were small enough and the metal thick enough that most of the shots were ineffectual. Mike did his best to calm his breathing and use all the tricks his father had taught him regarding targeting. He centered his front sight post within the peep scope simultaneously focusing on the post. He gently eased the trigger back, making sure that when it finally fired, it would surprise him as well as the person he hoped the bullet would obliterate. He rocked back slightly as his body absorbed the recoil. The muzzle of the machine gun launched backwards as Mike’s bullet hit the gunner in the nose. The round scraped off the soft cartilage and pitched upwards, neatly bisecting the man’s brain. His hands reflexively clamped down on the trigger, sending sprays of bullets harmlessly overhead.

“That you, Talbot?” Tynes asked.

“I think so.”

“Good job. Now keep shooting,” Sergeant Yonts said, not skipping a beat as she continued to fire. Most of the people that had sought a peaceful exodus from the coming fray were dead or dying. Five were nearly within the relatively safe embrace of their peers, and the guardsmen were doing their best to ensure that they made it. Gunfire intensified on both sides to a crescendo and then dropped off when the five made it back inside. There were cries for mercy from those bleeding on the street. Pembroke’s men did not shoot them; the injured were left as potential lures to force the Guard to attempt a rescue, exposing more of them to slaughter.

“Just kill them,” Mike pleaded. Their suffering was nearly unbearable for all those witnessing it.

“We need to get them,” Sergeant Yonts said.

“With what? You have a tank?” Mike asked.

“No, but close.” She got up and started running. Mike followed. Tynes grunted and did the same.

“She’s fast; our kids could be track stars,” Mike said as he descended the steps and headed out of the building. The sergeant was a good twenty yards ahead.

Tynes nearly bowled Mike over as he caught up.

“Where’s she going?” He asked.

“Motor pool.” Mike pointed as he ran. They could hear the start of a large diesel engine as a plume of black smoke shot into the air.

“Hurry up,” the sergeant urged. Mike and Tynes dived into the back of the troop transport.

“This will stop a bullet?” Mike asked touching the walls.

“Should,” was her one word reply.

“Should?”

“Never been tested—and remember, this stuff is all bought from the lowest bidder. Could be brittle steel like what they used for the Titanic.”

“Sergeant—”

“Tracy, my name is Tracy. Even with the uniform, it’s safe to say that you’re not military, so you can stop calling me sergeant. Open the gate!” she shouted while also blaring the horn.

Mike was rolling her name along his tongue when bullets began to impact the truck, sounding like a epileptic clapper from inside a gigantic iron bell. The thin strip of glass that was the windshield began to star and crack as shots made contact. Mike flinched with each new ping, yet Tracy drove on, undeterred.

“Doesn’t this thing have any way of defending itself?” Tynes was looking for weaponry.

“No, the machine gun is in maintenance.”

“Ah, perfect.”

So many rounds were being fired, it sounded like one continuous reverberation. Thinking was out of the question, communication as well. Tracy pulled up in front of the mass of dead and wounded, using the truck to shield them from further injury and insult.

“Move!”

Tynes was already out the back, Mike close behind.

“Only the living!” Tynes yelled needlessly.

Mike was shocked into momentary immobility as he witnessed the destruction of so many humans up close. The soldiers were one thing, but the butchered and battered bodies of the women and children were too much for him to take. He turned his head to the side and let go of everything he’d eaten in the last year.

“Not the easiest thing to witness,” Tynes said almost tenderly. He had a woman cradled in his arms and was moving toward the truck. “But you can get sick later, Mike. We don’t have the time right now.”

Mike managed a grunt and dragged his sleeve across his mouth; long lines of bile coated his arm. He held no hope for the survival of those rescued. Their bodies were pierced, their blood nearly drained. If nothing else, he thought, they would get a proper burial. At least he could give them that.

“We’ve got company!” Tracy shouted. “Grab who you can and get back in!”

Mike panicked. There were two with their hands outstretched and maybe another three who were pleading at him with their eyes.

“Tynes, help me!” He was dragging two people along the ground.

“Mike, there’s no time! Get in the truck!”

“Can’t!”

“You had better not get me killed!” Tynes roared as he came back out.

“What are you two doing?” Tracy turned to look. “For the love of all that is holy.” She checked her weapon, opened the driver’s door and used it as a shield as she leaned out. She fired multiple rounds, causing those who were coming closer to rethink their choices in life. She hit two, killing one instantly. The rest dispersed, heading back to safety behind the dump truck. “Uh-oh,” she said when a plume of smoke signified the starting of the armored truck. “We’re about to have some large uninvited guests! Get in! And that’s an order!”

Mike and Tynes were carrying the last of the living, including a baby. Mike still had one foot on the roadway when the carrier began to back up. He was roughly yanked up, Tynes grabbed and steadied him, when he was inside.

“Thanks.” Mike paled. He’d turned to give the driver a piece of his mind when he realized the entire front of the windshield was dominated by the grill of the dump truck that was bearing down on them.

“Get down! I can’t see!” Tracy said. She’d turned and was looking through the rear door which was still standing open. Mike dove to the right, Tynes to the left. The carrier swayed violently from side to side as she applied more gas, every slight adjustment on the steering wheel threatening to turn the top-heavy vehicle over on its side. Mike grabbed a rail on his side at the first jarring impact of the dump truck slamming into the front end of the troop transport. Loud squeals erupted from the front as the tires were pushed violently to the side, leaving large black swaths of rubber on the roadway.

There was a moment when Tracy overcompensated and the left side of the truck raised up off the ground. Mike thought briefly how much it would suck to have Tynes land on him if they did flip. Another strike from the dump truck actually leveled them back down with a jarring jolt; blood ran from Mike’s mouth where he bit into his cheek. He couldn’t hear much over the mighty diesel engines pumping loudly and the tortured radiator fan of the carrier striking against everything in its path inside the compressed engine compartment as the dump truck crushed it further into the body. Gunfire could be heard, but for once, it was not ricocheting off their hull. The dump truck began to slow and then moved away. Mike could not tell from his vantage point if it was going backward or had merely stopped. Either way, what he heard next nearly brought tears to his eyes. It was the eruption of a wild chorus of cheers as the carrier popped and groaned its way back through the gates of the compound.

“Damned fools!” The colonel was outside the truck along with a plethora of medical personnel taking the injured to sick bay.

Mike was shaking as he looked down at his blood-soaked hands.

“You all right, man?” Tynes placed his large hand on Mike’s shoulder, startling him slightly.

“I uh...I’ve never seen dead kids, man.”

“Yeah, and it never gets any easier. You just learn to deal with it.”

Mike almost asked how he knew and then realized the cop had probably seen countless people scraped off the roadway after horrific accidents.

“Sergeant, my office now,” the colonel ordered.

“Yes, sir.” Sergeant Yonts moved quickly past him and toward his office. The colonel turned toward Mike and Tynes. “You two are about as sharp as Chinese slippers. She order you men to do this?”

“No,” Tynes said. Mike just shook his head once.

“And still you went?”

“Yes,” Tynes said. Mike nodded.

“You going to be all right, son?” The colonel was looking at Mike whose knees were shaking along with his entire body.

Mike gave an ambiguous gesture as he half nodded and shook.

“This goes a long way toward making things right with my Guard. I will take your actions into consideration.” And with that, he strode away.

“Should I tell him the only reason you followed the sergeant was the view from the rear?”

“Don’t you dare, man. All things considered, I think I’d do it again.”

Mike wanted to take a shower in water hot enough to slough off his skin, but he was not going to get the opportunity. The attackers had decided to bring the fight closer. The trucks were approaching with fighters walking closely behind.

“Let’s get back up on the building; they’re going to use those trucks to break through the fence.”

Mike and Tynes were getting into position when they heard the earsplitting whoosh of a rocket. They watched the smoke trail off to their right as it raced toward a truck, blew through the windshield, and exploded the entire cab into a fiery twisted hunk of scrap metal. The flaming truck veered off to the right and crashed through a storefront. The gunners hiding behind it started firing when they became exposed but quickly ducked for cover when they began to take casualties.

Two more rockets halted progress in their respective directions but, as of yet, had not completely stopped the aggressive approach that Mike and Tynes were watching from above.

“Another rocket would be nice right about now,” Mike said as he tried to get a shot off on the lead driver. A piece of heavy steel had been placed over the entire windshield. “How is he seeing to drive?”

“Has to be cameras, but I don’t see any. Shoot around the grill; they have to be there somewhere.”

A hiss shot up from the front of the truck as the radiator was destroyed, but it did little to halt the forward progress. The truck hit the fortified fence at twenty miles per hour. Metal ground into metal with an intolerable screeching noise. The truck kept rolling, thundering into the building Mike and Tynes were perched on, the impact reverberating under their feet.

Men rushed in from the breach, easily a hundred or more. The guardsmen did their best to stem the tide, but there was not enough firepower; the Guard next to Mike had his lung and heart punctured. He slumped over, hitting Mike in the arm, dead.

“Tynes come on!” Mike stayed low but was heading toward the roof access door.

“Coward!” one of the men said, turning back.

“They’re coming into the building, idiot,” Mike shot back. “Where do you think they’re going to go first?”

The man mumbled an apology. Mike was already out of range of the words.

“Oh fuck!” Mike opened the door and a trio of bullets slammed into the cement above his head as the men coming up fired. He leapt back out, quickly shutting the door.

Tynes ran back to the men at the roof’s edge then came back holding a grenade.

“Here you go.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Mike asked, looking at the explosive device as if it might do what it was designed to do at any moment.

“I’ll cover you; you toss it in there.”

“I hate you,” Mike said grabbing the grenade. He pulled the pin and depressed the arming lever, not sure if he was supposed to have it closed before pulling the pin. “Open the fucking door!” Mike nearly shrieked.

Tynes did not question, did not hesitate. As he yanked the door open, Mike tossed the grenade in. It hit the railing and bounced onto the landing.

“Fuck!” Mike hit Tynes as hard as he could, making him stumble to the side a few steps as the door blew out onto the roof, smoke billowing out from the opening.

“Nice toss, asshole.” Tynes said.

Mike waited until the smoke cleared enough to afford him an opportunity to look inside. The railing had been destroyed, cut in two and twisting toward the stairwell. The two men who had been at that level received the worst of it. One had been completely decapitated from the shrapnel. The other looked like he’d been bludgeoned to death with an axe handle. If there had been more men in the stairwell, they were long gone given the escalation in weaponry.

“How many grenades do you think I’ve ever tossed?” Mike was shaken.

“You all right?”

“Now you ask. What if my head had been blown off like that guy on the stairs?”

“Might be an improvement.”

“Now who’s the asshole? Now what?”

“We have to guard this door.”

“The sergeant is down there somewhere.”

“You’re going to do something all testosterone infused, aren’t you?”

“The sergeant is down there.”

“Something tells me she’s much better equipped to keep herself safe than you are.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Didn’t think so.” They were already halfway down the stairs. “Mike, we can’t leave this building,” Tynes said as they stood on the first-floor landing. “We do, and those men upstairs are toast.”

Mike could not believe how close he was to saying “screw ’em.” Instead, he nodded. “You’re right.”

Mike peeked through the safety glass and noticed the lobby of the building was full of Pembroke’s men.

“It might not just be their asses that are toast.” Mike pointed to the window for Tynes to take a look.

“We can’t leave anyway. They’re coming.” Tynes pulled back, taking Mike with him. They backed up and went three steps up the first flight. The stairwell got darker as a man peered in through the glass, blocking the light. Mike put a bullet in his forehead, and the indirect sunlight streamed in once again.

Gunfire from the men behind their fallen comrade poured into the small opening and dented the door as heavier AK rounds tried their best to worm their way through the metal.

“Up.” Tynes backed up, pulling Mike behind him. “You’re not going to be able to save her if you’re dead.”

The door flew open, a leg quickly retreated. A column of fire blistered the paint on the far wall.

“Flamethrower,” Mike said needlessly. This time, he didn’t need to be pulled anywhere as they both ran up another set of stairs, the heat still intense from a floor above.

“Wish we had another grenade.” Tynes peered over the railing.

“Really? Because the first one went so well.”

As the man wielding the weapon turned, the flame began to flow up the stairs. Mike leaned over the railing; for the briefest of seconds, the combatants locked eyes. The flame swept in his direction while he pulled the trigger quickly four times. Three missed. The fourth hit the assailant on the top of his boot, went through the leather, the many bones of his foot, and tore through the tender heel. As the man fell back, the blaze swept up, and Mike leaned away just as the flame caressed the top of his head.

Tynes smacked the back of Mike’s head, sending his burning hat fluttering to the floor below like a singed butterfly.

“What the…” Mike started before seeing it. Screams of the man who had his foot shattered diminished as the door closed again. “No more tap dancing for him. Don’t look at me that way. I use humor when I’m scared. I almost became a human s’more.”

“Oh, I understand the need to diffuse tension. But it would help if you said something that was actually funny. We should pull back. My guess is they’re going to swarm the opening using overwhelming force.”

As if Tynes was precognizant, the door pounded open violently. Multiple rounds impacted the walls in the spot they’d just vacated. The noise was louder than anything Mike could ever recall, threatening to capsize his equilibrium; only the adrenaline pumping through his system kept everything afloat. Tynes pushed through the first-floor door and into a large hallway, which opened into a general barracks full of the utilitarian bunk beds used for generations by the armed forces. The gunfire was still going on behind them.

“Now what? Do we hide?”

“Can’t, we left those guys on the roof completely exposed,” Tynes said, trying to think of something.

“Man, all I wanted was a little damn food, pizza, bag of pretzels, I’m not picky would have taken a damn Twinkie. This was not part of the bargain.”

The gunfire subsided. “They’re coming,” Tynes warned.

“Fantastic,” Mike added sarcastically. “Because I am extremely pissed off right now.”

“No crazy shit, you hear me? That crap only works in the movies.” Tynes told him.

“Fine. But we’re standing in the middle of the hallway. I’m thinking we should move.” Mike followed Tynes back toward the door. “I didn’t mean that way!”

“We can’t yield this ground.”

“Remember that whole thing about being dead?” Mike asked.

“It’s not just about us anymore. Open the door and stay to the side.”

Mike pulled the door open quickly, Tynes’ rifle sounded as if it had been fired using a suppressor. The man coming up the stairs had been so close, the muzzle had pushed into his jacket, reducing the noise and muzzle flash. Mike shoved the man’s barrel down before he could get a few rounds into Tynes.

“Fuck!” Mike yelled, shaking his hand. The barrel was scalding hot, he could smell the top layers of his flesh as they flash-fried.

Tynes riddled the man with three more rounds at close distance, flinging him back into those that followed. Mike fumbled to get his rifle back into position, his trigger finger searing with pain. He turned to see a plume of red blow off Tynes’ shoulder as he absorbed a round. Tynes screamed while he fired. Mike edged his way into a sliver of opening in the doorframe and started firing. They’d caught Pembroke’s men off guard. Even though they outmanned Tynes and Mike five to one, their attackers retreated back down the stairs.

“You all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tynes asked.

“Come on, let’s get back upstairs while we have a chance.” Mike was nearly embedded in Tynes’ backside as he kept turning to check their six.

“It’s Tynes and Mike!” he shouted as they reached the second floor landing. “Don’t shoot!”

“You do realize they have no idea who Mike and Tynes are, right?” Mike asked.

“Hadn’t thought of that. Think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder or something.” Tynes complained.

“Good guys! We’re the good guys! Don’t shoot!” Mike shouted.

A head poked through the top floor door. A hand waved them up. “Hurry up!”

Mike pushed on Tynes, who wobbled a bit.

“He’s shot,” Private Delano said as they came through the door.

“Mike, you’re shot?” Tynes turned to look.

“He’s talking about you. Come on, let’s get on the other side of this wall and we’ll take a look at it.”

Tynes sat so Mike could see the wound. “Not too nasty, in and out, but you’re bleeding pretty badly.”

“Here,” Delano said, tossing a medic bag around the corner.

“Hey, is there any morphine in here?” Mike asked.

“Is he in that much pain?” Delano asked.

“Him? I doubt it. I was asking for me.”

“You watch the door. I’ll tend to his wound.”

“Deal,” Mike said. The stairwell lit up, and Mike realized that either the man he’d shot in the foot was back for round two or someone else had literally picked up the torch. “Who brings a flamethrower to a war? Asshole.” Mike snuck back onto the third floor landing in a low crawl. He stuck his head over the precipice to look down. He was met with the fumes of melting paint. “Who needs morphine?” His head swam from the toxic mixture he’d inhaled. When things cooled down, two more gunmen rushed inside the stairwell. Mike was fairly confident they couldn’t see him, but he pulled back slightly anyway. He could hear their quick breaths and equipment clinking as they ascended.

He peeked over, slowly moving his weapon into position. There were now three gunmen and his new best friend, Left Foot Larry and his flamethrower. Mike was looking down directly at two white tanks full of propellant. He didn’t think about the consequences, he just got his barrel over the lip, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The first shot grazed the wand, but the second ripped through the aluminum tank that contained what appeared to be a homemade mixture of napalm. A mushroom-shaped fireball came up the stairwell like it was a chimney. Screams of men burning alive forced Mike from the stairs. He was followed by the smell of hair and clothing burnt beyond recognition. He was not proud of what he’d done, but he was secure in the knowledge that it would be a good, long time before someone tried to come up those stairs again.

“How is he?” Mike asked about Tynes.

“Mean as a viper, but he’ll live.”

“Pity.” Mike went back to the roofline.

Delano just shook his head.

“Should have left him in jail.” Tynes told the medic.

“Jail?”

“Yeah, they caught him having sex with cats.”

“You’re good to go,” Delano said, finishing the dressing. He wanted to be as far away as possible from these two.

Tynes got up with a grunt, grabbed his weapon, and went over to Mike. Delano kept watch on the door. Thick tendrils of smoke were pouring out.

“I’m good,” Tynes said when he saw the look of concern on Mike’s face.

“You might be, but it’s not looking good down there.”

Dump trucks had pushed fencing down in a half dozen different locations. There were nearly as many of Pembroke’s men inside and approaching the compound as there were National Guardsmen. Gun battles raged throughout the entire area. In a few incidents, it was hand-to-hand combat.

“We’re getting low on ammo,” Corporal Hernandez said, opening the last of the ammunition cans. “Make it last.” The roof defenders were down to six; three had been killed in action and three more would join them soon enough without medical help. Mike grabbed the magazines out of the rifles of the men that were no longer using them.

“We’ll get you help as soon as we can,” Mike told one of the men who had been shot through the collarbone. His arm hung down uselessly by his side, and he was in a great deal of pain.

“I don’t want to die up here.”

“None of us do,” Mike told him truthfully.

The trucks had broken through, but Pembroke’s men were having a hard time gaining any more ground. The Guard dug in to their defensive positions. It was a stalemate. Pembroke was losing men at an alarming rate, but he seemed to have an endless supply of them. Eventually, the Guard positions would run out of ammunition, and then their locations would fall like dominos. Like a sniper hidden in the trees, Mike picked out targets and took well-placed shots, dealing death one projectile at a time. In a war that was fought by tossing as many bullets into the air as possible, he was a chilling reminder of how effective and deadly a slower pace could be.

Mike detached himself as best he could from the reality of what he was doing. Rounds burst through heads and chests of the enemy, sending them spiraling to the ground in sprawled heaps of dead flesh. Thirty-eight cents each...the chunks of lead were extinguishing the hopes and dreams of everyone they came into contact with—overwhelming, unyielding, and without prejudice.

Corporal Hernandez had stopped shooting to watch Mike and decided he could be of better use supplying Mike with fresh magazines. His withering attack had been enough to force Pembroke’s men away from the building and for those in the lobby to push for another assault in the stairwell, so that the whispered name of the “assassin,” as he was becoming known, could be killed. Night was rapidly approaching, and the corridor leading down looked like the opening to a much darker place than this world could summon. Delano had waved over some help when he heard someone shuffling in the stairwell. Corporal Hernandez had tossed three grenades inside, all of them missing what was left of the railing. The resulting explosion shook the building, instantly shredding the seven men that had the unfortunate luck to have been inside.

The sun was just beginning to set when an old air raid siren sounded off in the distance. Pembroke’s men looked confused at first, and then the word was passed. It was the call to pull back. They’d been so sure that this skirmish would be over within a few hours, they hadn’t even discussed this contingency. Sporadic fire continued as the men withdrew, but the Guard seemed happy just to let them go and didn’t waste ammo on their retreating backs. Mike headed for the stairs, not even stopping to look to see if anyone was still in there.

“Where’s he going in such a hurry?” Corporal Hernandez asked Tynes.

“He thinks he has a date.” Tynes went to catch up.

Mike ignored the charred bodies as best he could on his way down.

“Mike, hold up. You don’t know if everyone is gone or not.” As if on cue, they heard the approach of men running toward their position. They were halfway down the stairs when the bright beam of a flashlight penetrated the murkiness. Mike shielded his eyes when the light blinded him.

“Huh, didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Good to see you as well, Sergeant. You’ve got three men up there who could really use some help.”

Mike walked out of the building, bummed two smokes off a man who couldn’t stop trembling. He offered one to Tynes. They both leaned against the building.

“Okay, I now understand how military men get PTSD,” Tynes said.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be right in the head again,” Mike replied.

Mike had set himself up for Tynes to take verbal advantage, but he couldn’t. He knew Mike was hurting, and kicking someone when they were down was not quite as much fun.

“I...I sort of wish you’d never picked me up from the jail that day.”

“Mike, odds are you’d be dead right now.”

“That might be better.”

“You’d never get a date with the sergeant.”

“Yeah, as if she’d ever want to.”

“Want to what?” Sergeant Yonts was fast approaching.

Mike was silent.

“My men told me what you did, what you both did. I cannot thank you enough.”

“You and the colonel?” Mike asked.

“Oh, just a small dressing down, not the first time I’ve been yelled at. I imagine it won’t be the last.”

“Seems like you and Mike have a lot in common.” Tynes strode off to help with the massive effort of restoring the defenses. In an ironic twist, the very trucks used to batter the defenses were used to replace the missing fences. They were pushed, pulled, or towed into position, then the tires were flattened so that the behemoths could not be easily moved. Tynes was sure that never in the history of warfare had a wall of dump trucks ever been used to thwart an enemy.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. The colonel wants to see you.”

“I need to get washed up before I get shot?”

“Shot?”

“Yeah, firing squad.”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to happen.” The sergeant led him back to her barracks room. “There are towels under the sink. You’ve got five minutes of lukewarm water; use it wisely.”

She handed him a lighter so he could light the five candles she had strategically placed around the small bathroom. His face looked gaunt as he peered into the mirror. Dark black circles lined his eyes. He shivered when the water hit his skin and then couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was from the temperature of the water or the coldness in his soul. He was staring at his toes as swirls of dirt, debris, and blood began to flow around his feet. He cleaned off as best he could, never even realizing when the water had turned from tepid to torturous. It felt like tiny ice daggers slicing into his flesh, but he welcomed it.

“What are you doing?” Sergeant Yonts had come in. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes; I took a shower and got dressed already. You’re going to freeze to death.”

Mike said nothing as she grasped his hand and pulled him out from the stream of water. Mike stood there, not really paying attention to anything as she toweled him off, his mind nearly as numb as his body.

“Got to admit, Mr. Talbot, I’ve never done this before, and if I had, I would have expected a bigger reaction.” She smiled when she poked her head around front and looked down. Mike turned so they were facing each other. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her tight, his mouth finding hers. She stiffened for the briefest of seconds and then let her lips enjoy the sensation of the kiss. They stayed that way a long while as the heat of life spread back through Michael’s mind and body, thawing the frozen parts of him.

The sergeant finally pushed away. “Um...yeah. Um...we should see the colonel now.”

Mike caressed the side of her face and turned as if he were getting ready to leave.

“Mike, it would probably be better if you went with clothes on.”

Ten minutes later, Mike was standing in front of the colonel.

“Got to admit, son, before the festivities of the day had started, I was planning on throwing you in the stockade. Now, I’m hearing from my men that you’re nearly a goddamned war hero. Wouldn’t make much sense placing you there now.”

“So you’re not going to shoot me?” was all Mike could think to ask.

“Shoot you? No, while I’m certainly not going to make you a leader of men, I am offering you a position of rank, and before you go and protest, this is a non-negotiable offer. We’re on more even ground than we were earlier, but you still dug us a mighty deep hole, son, and you need to do your part to work our way out of it.”

“And what of Officer Tynes?”

“That hasn’t changed; he’s free to go. Although I’ve heard about his exploits as well, and I would much rather he stayed. Seems that this war has just begun, and we’re going to need all the help we can get. One more thing...lovely girl, that Sergeant Yonts, isn’t she?”

“Colonel?”

“She’s my niece, Michael. Tread carefully.”

“Fuck,” Mike mumbled. “Yes sir.”

Mike thought he would not sleep at all that night. Between the battle and the kiss, he figured he had enough adrenaline flowing through him to stay awake for a week. Funny thing adrenaline, though, once it stops being produced, the body crashes quickly. He slept under the stars on the roof, and before he could do much more than think over the day, he was fast asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I-70

“The fire started in the yellow barn,” John said. “It spread across the dry grass of the field and set the other barn on fire. This was not an accident.”

Herbert looked at the group of men, women, and children watching.

Tee and Darlene were standing off to the side, exhausted after spending the last hour with everyone else dousing the flames and managing finally to contain the blaze.

Several men were still going through the debris to salvage what they could and make sure the fire didn’t start up again.

John leaned his rifle on his shoulder and stared at the group of survivors. “I think we have a rat in our midst, someone who likes to play with fire.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Herbert said calmly, but he looked pissed to Darlene.

This was too close and could’ve been so much worse.

Tee cleared his throat, all eyes on him. He put hands on hips and scanned the crowd. “I know some of you don’t know me. Heck, I don’t really see a familiar face, if we’re being honest. No friends. No family. Not one of you knows me well, and no one knew me from Adam before all this began. But I think tragedy makes us all closer, and in the few weeks or days we’ve been struggling with this, I know one thing is certain: We’re all in it together.” He pointed at an elderly woman with two small children gripping her thighs. “I know you never expected to take on the responsibility of those two, and I know you wouldn’t trade it for the world now. We’ve all had to adjust and sacrifice and do things we weren’t proud of to stay alive. I get it.” Tee looked up to the sky and put his hands in the air. “The Good Lord knows I’ve made enough mistakes. I own up to them. I welcome learning from them too.”

Darlene could see John was getting antsy, wobbling from foot to foot as he scanned the crowd. She knew he was having none of Tee’s speech and was busy looking for a sign from someone they’d lit the fire.

Tee was pacing now. “This is the Brinker farm. Mister Herbert and his lovely wife, Pheebz, own this gorgeous piece of property. Did they close it off from the world and let us all die? No. They took us in. Gave us a spot on their lawn to set up camp. Let us use their water and shared some of their food. They didn’t have to. They could’ve turned us away and told us to go back to the rock we crawled out from under. But they didn’t, because they are good people.” Tee stopped pacing and wagged a finger. “I ask...no, I implore...whoever did this is not welcome wherever I am welcome. I would never speak for our gracious hosts, but I don’t think what happened here tonight was an accident, and I think evil hearts breed evil intentions. If you’ve done this, I feel sorry for you. I also feel responsible and ashamed because I led you to this oasis in the middle of this troubling world. End of Days is here, my friends. Whether you believe or not, it won’t change anything. I ask each of you to look deep inside and think about what you see. And the person or persons who did this will get their just rewards. Mark my words.”

Darlene hoped it didn’t come to street justice from John or anyone else if someone was accused or confessed to the crime. Right now, she was scared for multiple reasons.

The smell of the burnt wood hung in the air, and a few people coughed as the wind shifted and blew the smoke at the group.

Herbert stared at his smoldering property and sighed loudly. He folded his arms over his chest before bowing his head.

John looked at Darlene with anger in his eyes, but it wasn’t directed at her. It was a general feeling they both shared right now. When she didn’t look away, John approached.

“We let these people into our safety net, and this is how they repay us,” John said.

“It’s not all of them. It could only be one or two bad apples,” Darlene said, trying to calm John but hearing how hollow her own words were right now.

“One is too many. I think we need to have a private meeting with Herbert and let him know we only have one recourse,” John said.

“And what is that?”

“We tell them to go fend for themselves,” John said.

“Herbert would never do it. And you know why? Because it’s wrong, that’s why. You’ll condemn all of them to death because of the actions of one of their number?”

“How do you know it’s only one of them? What if they are all together in this? What if every man and woman with a rifle is planning on killing us in our sleep tonight? You don’t know and neither do I. But I do know we will never survive as long as there are those who would betray us, and do it while breaking bread with us every meal,” John said.

“You’re acting crazy,” Darlene said, but she half-believed it. His words stung and might be morally repulsive, but he was right. They were no longer safe on the farm. The bad guys had come too close for comfort.

John had gotten loud, and now Darlene looked around. All eyes were on them. They’d heard most of the conversation and definitely the tail end of his short speech.

For his own part, John stood tall and Darlene could see he met every accusing stare before they eventually turned away.

“We have a problem,” Darlene said simply when the silence became unbearable.

Tee nodded but didn’t say anything.

Herbert clapped his hands. “This night is getting too long for more radical speeches. We double the watch tonight and pair up together. I don’t want anyone in the tree stand or out by the road alone. Same for the porch and the foot patrols. Anyone have a problem with it?”

“I’ll go around and pick the men and women who are good with a weapon and haven’t had too many guard duties lately. I’ll make up a list in the morning we’ll all be happy with,” Tee said. He turned to Herbert. “Sorry. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course. We could use the help, and you know these folks better than I do. Everyone get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and a new set of challenges,” Herbert said. He motioned for Tee to join him, and the two walked over to John and Darlene.

“Let’s take a walk,” Herbert said. The four went to the front porch.

Herbert was staring at Tee when he spoke, and Darlene realized she and John were there as witnesses if something went wrong. Did Herbert not trust Tee?

“You brought these people with you,” Herbert said.

Tee put his head down. “I swear, I’ve had no problems with anyone up until this point. I’m hoping it was an accident.”

“They destroyed two of my barns, and it could’ve been much worse. People could have died. We lost a lot of our supplies and lumber,” Herbert said.

Darlene left unsaid what she was thinking: Herbert’s nephews had previously almost set the farm on fire. Why wasn’t he blaming them, or at least bringing it up? She hoped he would in private, and it was so much more troubling to think a family member might be to blame than someone new in camp.

“It makes no sense. If they wanted to do damage, why burn things they will need themselves? It would’ve made more sense to steal everything and hide it in the woods,” Tee said.

“We need to watch our backs. We’re targets,” John said.

“I agree. When you make up the guard duty roster, make sure you pair us together. I don’t want to be next to the wrong guy or gal,” Herbert said. “We’ll have time tomorrow to sit down again and revisit our defenses and decide what we’ll need to do.”

Tee nodded. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea or I would’ve taken them to another farm. I’m sure there are a few abandoned at this point, especially with the maniacs running the town. I’m just glad no one was hurt or worse.”

“I want the tree,” John said.

Herbert glanced at Darlene. “I think the tree and the road are our biggest spots right now. We’ll have eyes on the back and front of the property. I’ll go up with you tonight, John.”

“I’ll go,” Tee said quickly.

Herbert smiled and shook his head. “No thanks. I can get up there. I used to all the time. One night won’t kill me, and I need to do more. I’ll take tonight with John in the tree. It will do me good to see the back end of what we’re working with, anyway. I’m sure I’ll regret it in the morning.”

“We’ll take the road,” Darlene said and pointed at Tee.

“Just make sure you pair off people who aren’t friends for the other spots. I’d hate to think we’re putting the arsonists together to start another fire if they get a chance,” John said.

“I will do it randomly tonight and then really give it a good look tomorrow,” Tee said.

“Hey, you need to come look at this,” a man said as he came around the corner.

“What is it?” Herbert asked.

“We found a body in the rubble. It looks like someone was killed. The fire was set to destroy the evidence, maybe.”

Herbert smacked the porch railing with his hand. “Now what?”

They began walking back around the house to the remnants of the barn.

Darlene didn’t know if she could take any more of this excitement.

She had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I-70

So many people wanted to see the news that Herbert finally turned on the TV and put it next to the window so everyone could crowd the porch and front of the house to at least hear the horrific events unfolding.

Darlene leaned against the side of the house and cried, and she wasn’t the only one.

“This isn’t real,” someone in the crowd said. “Turn the channel. This station always puts on inflammatory rhetoric.”

“It’s on all the channels,” Herbert said loudly and put his hands up. “We all need to prepare, not only for basic survival but for protecting what little we have left. The enemy is at our back door and we need to fight. We need to protect all the children we’re sworn to watch over, the next generation of Americans.”

“We can’t do this alone.” John walked up next to Herbert. “And we’ll need to retake the town. Maybe try to make peace with the Sawyer clan, because this will affect all of us now.”

Darlene couldn’t say anything, she was staring at the newsfeed and wondering what was happening.

The enemy had landed on their shores. And they still didn’t know exactly who the enemy was, although it looked like North Korea and some of their allies had made their bold move and were winning.

San Diego, Miami, and New York City were under attack, and reports were still coming in about parachuting armed men dropping in all over the country. There were scattered reports of warships docked on the Alaskan coast bearing Russian markings, and an unconfirmed report alleged North Korean units coming in from Canada. The Mexican border had been obliterated, and an unknown army seemed to be marching into California and spreading into the lower states unopposed.

The attack had been so swift and coordinated it had taken America by surprise. Not all of our troops had been pulled back, and most back in the country were detained with domestic rioting and looting.

Herbert looked at Darlene and John. “Tomorrow I’ll go over to the Sawyer compound. I’m sure they’ve circled the wagons at Dusty’s farm because it would be the easiest to defend. I’ll have a talk with whoever is in charge. Most likely Buck Sawyer, who is the most unstable but next in line. He’s also the loudest, so I’m sure he got everyone worked up into a frenzy about wiping us out.”

“No way are you going over there. They’ll hang you as payback for Dusty’s death no matter what deal you strike. I’ll go,” John said.

“I’ll go with you,” Darlene said.

Herbert leaned closer to the pair, glancing around to make sure everyone was still watching the news. “I need one of you here. I don’t trust too many, to be honest. There is definitely a traitor in our midst, but we haven’t found him or her yet. It might be more than one. We don’t know. I need someone to watch my back.”

“Understandable. I’ll stick around, but tonight the three of us need to do the main patrolling. It was nice to take a break and sleep for more than four hours at a time, but this new development might push the Sawyer clan to be even more desperate. They might want to take our weapons next,” Darlene said.

She couldn’t believe this had just gotten ten times worse, and it was already bad to begin with. They were vastly outnumbered, food was going to dwindle quickly, and a bunch of tents on a lawn wasn’t much protection.

She didn’t think they could survive an attack from the redneck Sawyer family. How would they last more than a few minutes against a North Korean unit?

Add in the internal sabotage, and they wouldn’t last long at all.

Darlene thought of something. “Do you think the killer/arsonist is working for the Sawyers or just someone trying to eliminate a few people so there’s more for them in the end?”

“I don’t know. It could be both, right? I do know I don’t feel safe. I woke so many times in the three hours of sleep I got that Pheebz finally told me to go sleep in the living room. And when I got on the couch, every creak and noise in the house kept me awake. I finally got up and made coffee, which we’re almost out of now,” Herbert said.

Darlene was about to mention the Boyette farm but stopped herself. She had made note Herbert had kept it to himself, never mentioning Terri in hiding there. They hadn’t discussed it, but she knew it was the ace up his sleeve. If something happened, they could retreat to the farm, but not with someone hurtful in their midst.

“At some point, we need to do something about the crazies running the town, too. We can’t fight a war on three fronts. It would be nice to think, with the invasion, the other two sides will be too busy watching their own backs to come after us, but we can’t count on it,” John said.

“How long before they reach us?” Tee asked.

They turned back to the television, but the news had already begun showing the same previous segments. After twenty minutes of watching the initial reports, a live roundtable of quasi-experts began a panel about the invasion, talking in big words and not really saying much.

“What should we do?” someone asked from the crowd.

Tee looked at Herbert, who waved for Tee to address the question. Tee was the de facto leader of the survivors, even though they were all living on Herbert’s farm. Darlene figured at some point one of the men would have to stop being so nice to the other and take the lead to avoid confusion. Right now, the two of them leading was working.

“We dig in and we protect this land.” Tee turned to Herbert like he had an idea. “If it’s alright with Mister Brinker, I think we literally dig some trenches. We clear out the rest of the bushes and trees all around the property. We need a killing field.”

A few of the people groaned.

Tee put up his hands. “I’m sorry for using such a crude description, but it is appropriate. This isn’t a joke, people. We’re under attack by foreigners who will kill all of us. Or worse. I’m not going to sugarcoat any of this. As it stands, we’re not a big city, and we have no hope to have a military or police rescue. We’re on our own. But we have one thing the North Koreans or Cubans or whoever else is attacking us don’t have: pride in the United States of America.” He turned to Herbert. “You have an American flag?”

Herbert nodded. “I’m a proud Marine. With all of this going on, I stopped raising the flag.” He pointed at the flagpole on the other side of the driveway. “But I guess we need it now more than ever, right?”

A few people clapped and more joined in, cheering as Herbert went inside and retrieved the American flag and slipped into Marine mode, raising the flag and saluting it.

Several men, whom Darlene guessed were also former military, stepped up in a straight line and saluted with Herbert.

Darlene began to cry again, but this time it was because of pride and joy at seeing everyone working together. This was what everyone needed: to feel like part of something, and hopefully, work together for a common cause.

She hoped whoever was working against them would slip out in the middle of the night or change their minds about hurting the collective.

They still had no idea who was torched in the fire; all they knew was that it was a male. Unfortunately, no one had stepped up to say they knew the man.

The burial had been early this morning at first light and almost an afterthought. And that was before more bad news had broken.

Darlene watched John sit down in one of the chairs on the porch and close his eyes, deep in thought. She could only guess what was going through his head right now.

She didn’t want to know.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Day 29

“You getting up?” Tynes was standing over him and had just kicked his boot.

“Eventually. Wasn’t planning on doing it any time soon.” Mike could tell by the lack of light that the sun had not even broken the horizon.

“I brought you breakfast,” Tynes said, sitting next to Mike with his back against a wall.

“What the hell is that?” Mike moved his face as far away from the hash as he could.

“Corned beef, though I’m not so sure that’s cow.”

“Cow feet, maybe.” Mike scooted back so he could sit with his back against the wall as well.

Tynes was eating.

“Good stuff?”

“Once you get past the smell, it tastes pretty good.”

“You do realize that smell accounts for about seventy percent of taste, right?”

“Had no idea.” Tynes took in another big mouthful.

“You know what that smells like?”

“No, and I don’t want to know, although I know you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Mike ignored him. “You know—when you have gas, I mean the stomach cramping kind and it’s like, all night long you are just letting out this steady, breezy, long stream of the stuff?”

“Mike, come on man, I’m trying to eat.”

“Hear me out. I mean, the good thing about this slow pressure release going on is that there is absolutely no smell, just discharge. Then you hit this one aberration; for hours you’ve just been going about your business and then, without warning, you let one loose that just destroys the air. It hangs like a thick wet fog, clinging to every surface. I mean, it’s so bad, even you have to leave the room because the thing will not dissipate. Know what I mean?”

Tynes’ face had taken on a slightly green tinge.

“That’s what this smells like.” Mike put his plate of food as far away from himself as he could.

“That’s like what smells like?” Tracy asked, approaching.

“Yeah Mike, why don’t you tell her that story?”

“Pass.”

“You should maybe eat something, Mike. The colonel wants us down in his office in ten minutes.”

“What about Pembroke? Shouldn’t we be keeping watch?”

“If you’re keeping guard, you’re looking the wrong way.” She laughed. “Besides, there’s nothing to look out for. Pembroke has withdrawn.”

Mike stood quickly and turned to look out over the wall. “Well, holy shit. Did you know this?” he asked, looking down at Tynes.

“Of course, not all of us sleep until all hours of the day.”

“It’s barely even dawn, asshole.” Mike kept scanning the horizon looking for some subterfuge on Pembroke’s part. “I admit Pembroke got a little more than he was bargaining for yesterday, but I can’t imagine him just giving up like that. Not really in his nature.”

“That’s why we need to go see the colonel.”

Mike turned slowly. “There’s something worse coming.”

“Give that man a prize,” Tynes said, touching his nose then taking another large bite of food.

Mike choked down what he could but was internally grateful when Tracy said it was time to go.

“Bet the birds don’t even touch that,” he said, tossing the remains into a trashcan.

The colonel looked like he’d aged ten years overnight. That did little to assuage Mike’s fears. He’d been silently hoping that it was American troops that had scared off Pembroke. That didn’t seem to be the case. The meeting had been moved to the cafeteria; all the tables had been removed to make room in the structure for as many troops as possible. Still some were outside in the halls.

“As most of you know,” the colonel began, “your bravery and your sacrifice has led to the defeat of Pembroke’s mercenary army. They pulled out from their offensive positions nearly two hours ago, and have shown no indication of returning.” The colonel was interrupted as cheers arose throughout the crowd. The colonel placed his hands up and then lowered them slowly in hopes of getting some silence. “We have been bloodied in battle. We’re field tested and now combat ready, something we are going to have to rely on heavily in the foreseeable future.”

There were looks of confusion among the people as they tried to decipher the colonel’s words.

“I’ve heard from Washington and the military.”

There were a few short jeers.

“Yes, we know they’ve been conspicuously absent, leaving us to our own devices these last six weeks, but apparently it was for a reason. The Second Marine Battalion stationed on Okinawa has been recalled, and we will be joining up with them. We are living in unprecedented times, one in which the very fabric of the society and country we love dearly is being strained to the point of tearing. We cannot allow that to happen. We will fight and, if necessary, die to preserve everything we have ever known, if not for ourselves, then for our legacy.”

“What is he talking about?” Mike asked.

“The North Koreans, supplied by the Chinese, are getting ready to make land.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

I-70

Darlene was glad for the infrared scope, because with the cloud cover above, there wasn’t any moonlight, and it would’ve been useless to sit up here in the tree stand and watch for anyone approaching in the dark.

She glanced back at the makeshift camp and sighed, seeing two fires still burning, despite the rule to douse them once it got dark. It wasn’t even cold out tonight, but it looked like rain.

Tee shifted next to her and was looking back at the farm too.

“One of us has to watch for the North Koreans,” Darlene said. She smiled. All afternoon, they’d monitored the news while working on their defenses. The North Koreans had been stopped in San Diego and east at the Texas border, but unconfirmed reports said they were getting help from radical homegrown groups and reinforcements landing in other parts of the country.

By Herbert’s guess, they had a week or more before the front line moved to this spot, and if it did, it went without saying they’d need to run and cut their losses. But no one wanted to address it yet, and giving everyone something to do, like dig trenches, build more fences, and count the weapons and ammo was better than complaining or fearing the unknowable future, which didn’t look too bright from where Darlene was sitting.

Tee turned and went back to staring into the dark.

“What do you think of Herbert?” he asked Darlene, catching her off guard with the blunt question.

“I think he’s a great man. He literally saved my life. There’s no way I’d still be breathing if it wasn’t for him being so selfless,” Darlene said. “Why?”

Tee shrugged next to her. “I’m just wondering. Some of the people have heard a rumor he killed the head of the Sawyer family in cold blood.”

Darlene was shocked. “He didn’t. They came to the farm looking for a fight. Herbert wanted to straighten it out and talk. Nothing more.” She turned away, embarrassed.

“Then what happened?” Tee asked.

“It all happened so fast...”

Tee got up and stood, leaning against the tree. Darlene, sitting on the edge of the platform, turned her body to see his silhouette in the darkness.

“John shot and killed a deer from this spot. When we heard the shot, everyone drew their gun. Herbert got the drop first and killed Dusty before he killed one of us. It happened in seconds. No time to think. Just do,” Darlene said.

“I heard the boy with him was shot, too,” Tee said.

“Again, it was only because we thought we were under attack. John might not have known Dusty was here,” Darlene said.

She could see Tee turn his head and look back toward the farm.

“I can see the driveway from this spot. No problem. And even from this distance, a pickup truck driving up would make enough noise to wake the dead,” Tee said.

“It all happened so fast,” Darlene repeated for an answer. She didn’t want to think John would have shot the deer had he known it would lead to all of this. Was a chance to have fresh meat so important he did it anyway, even though he knew everyone would think there was an attack?

Darlene hated John right now.

“His stupid actions led to a great man dying and another wounded. The boy died on his way back and ran off the road. We found him hours later. He’d bled out,” Tee said.

“Wait...what?” Darlene said, a sinking feeling as she attempted to stand.

Tee suddenly moved forward and kicked her in the stomach. She instinctively stepped back, her feet finding nothing but air.

Darlene began to fall straight down and threw her arms out. They slammed into the platform and she screamed in pain, but her fingers caught the edge and she dangled in space.

Tee stood above her, a dark shape.

“I was hoping to be paired with Herbert tonight. I wanted to eliminate him first. But you’ll do. You’re just as dangerous as John. But he’s a loose cannon and I can manipulate him before we kill him,” Tee said.

“Why?” Darlene asked, trying desperately to pull herself up.

“I thought you’d figure it out on your own. Friends call me Tee, but I told you my name is really Thomas. Tom, which is ironic.”

Darlene felt a finger slip. “Tom...Tom Sawyer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not. It was a cute name as a kid, but as an adult, it gets old quickly, so everyone calls me Tee. I was recognized by one of the townsfolk, and when he confronted me, I had to kill him. The barn fire was an accident, actually. The lantern I used got knocked over in the struggle while I was strangling the bastard,” Tee said.

Darlene began to scream for help.

Tee stepped on her fingers gripping the wooden platform for dear life.

“Tee did it!” Darlene screamed as she lost her grip and fell from the tree.

About Mark

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About Armand

Armand Rosamilia is a New Jersey boy currently living in sunny Florida, where he writes when he's not sleeping. He's written over 100 stories that are currently available, including a few different series:

"Dying Days" extreme zombie series

"Keyport Cthulhu" horror series

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He also loves to talk in third person... because he's really that cool. He's a proud Active member of HWA as well.

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Also By Armand Rosamilia

"Dying Days" extreme zombie series

"Keyport Cthulhu" horror series

"Flagler Beach Fiction Series" contemporary fiction

"Metal Queens" non-fiction music series

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Chelsea Avenue By Armand Rosamilia

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