Cascadia Fallen: The Complete Trilogy, page 45
He was in the little trailer, sitting upright in the bed the way asthmatics do when they can’t seem to get the elephant off their chest. “I know, Nat. I don’t know what to do.” Wheeze. “It’s not like we have the power to run a humidifier,” Roy pointed out.
“Good thing for you we have some essential oils. I’m going to get some water boiling for tea.”
“I don’t want tea!” he said in a somewhat child-like voice.
“Eucalyptus,” she said, ignoring him. “And peppermint, I think. Those will help. And, yes—we can run the generator tonight to power the humidifier. Peppermint oil in that will help, too.”
“Nope.” Wheeze. “We haven’t been running the CPAPs, and you’ve had two migraines. No fair to you,” he objected.
“The difference is that asthma is much more likely to kill than sleep apnea. Who’s the nurse here?” She’d won, and they both knew it. “Think about the kids.” Got ya’. Now shut up and obey. “I think we need to think about going to Bubby’s,” she said to change the subject.
“Closer to Seattle? You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. And…I need to tell Dad about Mom.”
“Nat, we live on a farm. This is where your brother and his family should be coming.” Wheeze. “Not the other way around!”
“There’s like two feet of ash out there!” she exclaimed. “The PH will be all jacked up next year. We’ll be lucky to feed ourselves—not even thinking about crops to sell! We just let our cows go loose, for crying out loud!”
“No,” he countered. “We have hay and oats for the winter.”
“But the surface water is all tainted. We can’t live on a generator for months on end! Think about it. Bubby’s place has plenty of water and it’s isolated.” She could see he was thinking. “And protected,” she added.
“I guess we could take the Cub that far,” he conceded. “We’ll need to bring as much gas as we can.” Wheeze. “I don’t think I can walk over that pass this time of year. What about the hospital?”
That was in a past life, she thought. “It won’t last much longer. I think Sandra and Doctor Gupta are about done. Once they’re gone, the hospital will be done for. Nobody there knows when more meds and supplies will show up because the highways are unusable.” Nope. We’re going to Bubby’s. He’s much better suited for this crisis.
It was early afternoon, and the Garren Clan was finally strolling and riding up the small lane to his riverside cabin. The last mile is the longest, Earl thought. Some of the thirty-three residences—twenty-three on the river side, ten on the mountain side—on Coho Spawn Road were site-built homes. Most were framed cabins, and some were log. Each had a good spacing between the nearest neighbor, but not so distant as to forget they’re there. The Garrens’ log cabin was about two-thirds of the way down the road on the river side. The roar was loud, as the fall rains had it swollen and running fast—too fast for wading for a while…Looks like we’ll be bank fishing. As he eye-balled the river, he could see it was much murkier than usual. Probably all this ash.
“Finally here!” Owen said with a groan.
“Arrrggg! Shut! Up!” Piper yelled.
Tori was about to get on her when Earl shot her a look. Let her process it, he said with telepathy. He wasn’t sure if Tori read his mind, but she read his face and didn’t say anything. In Owen’s youth, he knew what had almost happened to his sister the day before, but the true impacts to her psyche were lost on him. Earl had board games and cards staged out there, but he figured it might be a while before she was up to doing anything with anyone that required patience.
“You see that?” Conner asked him.
“Huh? No. Lost in my own thoughts. What?”
“Curtains on that house flickered. Like we’re being watched.”
“I noticed that we just strolled right up the road,” Tori added. “Almost like they think they’re safe out here…”
“I think once those closest to us see us go into our own place, word’ll get out,” Earl concluded. After a moment, he added, “Still, I’ve met those closest to us a couple of times. Can never remember their names, but we should get ‘em together and try to organize some sort of civil-defense plan.”
The five-some strode the last five minutes quietly. Piper let the bike hit the gravel driveway after she removed her stuff from the fender rack. She made a beeline for the front door. It was locked, of course. “HHHmmmpphhh!” she said without words.
“You didn’t seriously think I just left it unlocked, did you?” Earl asked, smirking.
“Well, what if you had died or something?” she said, annoyed.
I’m so glad ‘how you will get into the cabin’ would be your biggest worry in that scenario, Earl thought. He was biting his tongue to give her some time to process her ordeal. I’m about done with this attitude. “Mom knows where the hidden key is,” he said evenly. After picking her bike up and putting down the side-stand, he walked over to the front door and unlocked it.
“Wait here,” he ordered his family. He and Conner took a minute to clear the small cabin before allowing everyone to enter. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d been in there. Needs some airing out. “Brother, would you get a fire going?” he asked Conner. Thank God I built up the wood pile this summer. Earl went and opened a few shades and windows while Tori and the kids hauled their bags into the cabin. It was basically a three-room cabin with a loft serving as one big room, the space under serving as another, and the kitchen and common area on the river side of the house. There was a cast-iron woodstove in the far corner. Earl would have loved to have a big river-rock fireplace, but at that moment he was thankful for what was there.
Owen tried to flip a light switch. “Really, bud?” Earl asked.
“I was just checkin’,” his son said, bummed.
Now that’s optimism, Earl thought. We just walked over forty miles and killed three people in self-defense, and he thinks the power might be on out here. “Son. You know you’re going to have to share the back-room with your sister for quite a while…right?” The thirteen-year-old still held the dejected look. This got Earl thinking. “Tell you what. Give me five minutes and we’ll get the quads out of the shed, hook up the cart, and haul a bunch of firewood up from the farthest stack.”
“That sounds fun, and all, but, uh…”
“Cabin aint gonna heat itself, son. Better get used to chores taking the place of your video games.” He looked towards the woodstove. “Any water left in that can?” he asked Conner.
Conner looked into the old coffee can. “Bone dry.” This made him suddenly realize something. He’d been out here at least twenty trips and had never thought to ask this. “You on a well out here?”
“Yep. And one of the first things I did when we bought this place was see how deep it is on the state’s website. When I saw the water table out here was shallow enough, I installed a hand-pump on the head. Bring the can. We’ll fill the water-jugs while Big-O gets the quad warmed up.”
Tahoma’s Hammer Plus 8 Days.
“I need you two to do me what I would consider an un-repayable favor,” Legion said. Shorty and Trip just looked at him stoically. I knew they’d be up to it. “I want you to go rescue Sticky from exile.”
The pair looked at each other. “Just the two of us?” Trip finally asked. “I mean—yes. Hands down—yes. But it’d be nice to have a couple of prospects with us.”
“Can’t spare ‘em, brother. You know that. Still waiting on the other chapters and the support clubs to file in. With a lot of the overpasses pancaked, it could take weeks.”
“No sweat,” Shorty replied. “Consider it done.” He looked at Trip. “We can just get over to the Sound and find a boat, I’m sure…Right?”
“That’s what you’ll need to do, for sure,” said Legion. “But it could take a couple of days to get there, and a couple to find one that didn’t get wiped out.” He looked back and forth. “You two up to this?”
“Of course!” Trip exclaimed with confidence. “We’ll ride as far as we can. There’s a bunch of marinas. My cousin took sailing lessons somewhere over there when we were kids.” Trip changed the subject. “Who’s gonna be Enforcer while I’m gone? There’s a lot of people here now.”
“We’ll be alright,” Legion said. “You two get ready. Just leave tomorrow since today’s half-over already.” He turned to leave them in the bedroom he’d dragged them into for the conversation. “Oh—and take a little ‘party product’ with you. Sticky’s earned it. So, have you guys.” With that he headed to the attic to find his radio operator.
“What’s the news, Prospect?” he asked the man he’d assigned to guard and play student to the kidnapped HAM.
“Things’re startin’ to get sketchy all over the place,” he said. “It’s kinda cool to sit here and listen to stuff all over the state, but at the same time…” He drifted off.
“What stuff?” Legion demanded.
“I dunno. It’s almost like one of those end-of-the-world movies. We actually heard a couple of gun battles between the cops and someone on the radio this mornin’.”
“Well, did you map it?” he asked, pointing at the big map on the wall. “Never frickin’ mind!” he said, annoyed when he saw it was unmarked. Stupid prospects. Sheesh…
“When we can, boss. They need to drop street and neighborhood names and stuff. It’s not like I can Google it anymore,” he explained.
“Yeah, Prospect, I get that. Just get what you can—but listen up. It’s called ‘intel.’ And we need it. I need to know who’s fightin’ who, where, why, when. Pretty much all the damn W’s. Got it?”
“Copy that, boss.”
Not too much longer and our quasi-pact with the Russians and Blacks is gonna fall apart. We need to be ready.
13
Hope and Hopelessness.
Tahoma’s Hammer Plus 21 Days.
“Wait here,” Charlie told Deputy Matty Wildman, who had just parked their patrol rig with the engine idling in front of the sign and small flagpole at the main gate to the West Sound Sportsman’s Club. Charlie got out and approached the sandbag wall under the brown plastic tarp as a man and woman stepped out from under it.
“The club’s Executive Officer is on the way up,” she said.
“I figured as much,” Charlie said. There was a second patrol car idling still out on Canal Vista Highway. Charlie and the two gate guards stared at each other in awkward silence for about four minutes until Phil finally showed up from the direction of the secondary gate that leads down to the far end of the rifle line and action bays. He opened it enough to just pass through it and re-latched it behind himself.
“Sergeant Reeves,” Phil said.
“Really, Phil? It’s gonna be like that?” he asked his supposedly best friend.
“Last time you were out here, you made it pretty clear how things are,” Phil replied bitterly.
You mean the time before that, Charlie said in his own head. He remembered holding Phil up under the weight of the world crashing down on him on the last visit. “I think we can both agree that things are complex now,” Charlie parried.
“Sure,” Phil agreed. “Is there something we can do for the Slaughter County DEM?”
“Seriously? We’re gonna keep up this little game?” Charlie was starting to get annoyed. “Fine.” He keyed up his lapel microphone. “Zeus, you guys stay in your rig. Matty, bring up the evidence bag.” Matty walked up to Phil and Charlie about thirty seconds later with a plastic bag, though Phil couldn’t tell exactly what was in it.
“Can we come in?” Charlie asked.
“Got a warrant?” Phil countered.
“Do I need one?” Charlie retorted.
Phil stared at him for about five seconds and finally turned around and opened the lower gate. “You’re getting good at this, Charlie,” he stated as the two deputies started to travel in after him.
Oh, boy. “What’s that?” he asked, knowing he would receive some sarcastic answer. Best friends are figuratively family that people get to choose, and nobody knows how to pull a person’s strings like their family.
“Serving the crown,” Phil said flatly.
Charlie stopped and then looked at Matty. “Why don’t you stay here.” It was an order, not a question. Matty complied without resistance.
The two men strolled down the gravel road slowly, and Phil finally asked, “So, what’s in the bag, Charlie?”
“In a minute,” Charlie said. “First, what did you hear about a big firefight out in the west end, night before last?”
“You might have to be more specific, Charlie,” Phil said. “There’s all kinds of danger out here at night.” Neither man was enjoying playing this game of mental chess, and both were a little angry that it was with someone they cared for. “We’re constantly sending beggars along their way—will be any night now that we’re arresting them and calling you guys. Non-violently, of course,” Phil said, adding the dig to draw a reaction. “Wouldn’t want our guns to get confiscated.”
You’re being a jerk, Charlie said with his stare. Phil understood it. “Enough games, Phil! What happened out there? I know you were there.”
“If something happened somewhere, brother,” Phil said, thinking through his words as if they would come back at him in court someday, “I’m sure it was self-defense.” He was doing his best to remain calm. He remembered learning, once, that he who loses his cool first, loses the debate. It was a lesson he rarely remembered.
“Could be, I guess.” Charlie was choosing his words, too. “But usually the self-defense argument goes to the people who were attacked, not doing the attacking.”
“Well, Deputy, since I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m going to have to keep speaking hypothetically—unless you give me some specifics.”
You asked for it. “You want specifics? Okay—remember that kid you arrested here the night after the quake?” He was observing Phil’s face. He thought he saw the pupils widen just a bit. “His entire family and several other people were obliterated the night before last. Funny, though. He wasn’t with ‘em.”
“The Matthews? That’s what you’re talking about?” Phil deceitfully asked. “World’s better off without them!” he said emphatically. The two men stared at each other for another ten seconds before Phil finally pushed, “What’s in the friggin’ bag, Charlie?”
Charlie couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl up ever so slightly. He barely took his gaze off Phil when he pulled the AR magazine out of the plastic evidence bag, still full of ammo and covered in dried mud. Phil looked at it, and his face went blank, but he said nothing.
“How many classes have I taken here, Phil? Only shooter I know whose initials spell ‘pew’,” Charlie said. Boom goes the dynamite! “Nothin’? You all out of sarcasm, Phil? Smart-ass tank empty?”
Phil’s face was turning beet red. He just stared…and stared…Finally, he said, “What’s this mean, Charlie? You all here to arrest me?” he asked, waving towards the highway.
“No, Mr. Walker,” Charlie said, returning to the fake niceties, “I’m here to deliver a message—well, two messages, I suppose.” Phil just kept staring with a face that could no longer hide his anger. Charlie continued, “One—the Slaughter County Unified Command is the authority in this county, whether you like it or not. They’re the ones who will decide how justice is dispensed, not private citizens. We can’t allow vigilantes to take over, Phil.”
He waited, but Phil was lock-jawed—afraid anything else he said would be so insulting that it would indeed get him arrested.
“And two—you have a friend who was shot in an altercation last night. I thought you would want to know.”
“Who?” Phil demanded, intense anger still radiating from his face.
“Reverend Sherman Robertson.”
Stu pulled the seamstress-style measuring tape off Payton’s belly. “I’d like to see this grow a bit,” he said. “Are you getting enough to eat?” They were in his little room, evaluating the state of her pregnancy.
“Is anyone?” Payton wondered aloud as she sat up and pulled her shirt down.
“Touché,” Stu replied, smiling softly. “But, seriously—you need it. This baby’s chances of starting his or her life healthy increase dramatically if you get enough good food. No sharing your portions with your daughter. Take seconds, even. Doctor’s orders.”
Payton smiled. Having Stu at the range was a big relief, though she knew he could decide to leave at any time. “I’m glad you’re here, Dr. Schwartz.”
“All things considered, so am I. Three weeks back feels like a lifetime ago.”
Three weeks? Is that all it’s been? They both fell silent for a moment until Stu got it rolling again. “I talked to Josh about trying to get vitamins. I know they started their foraging patrols today, or whatever they’re calling it. You and a few other patients get first dibs on whatever they bring back.”
“Cool. What about you, Doctor?” Payton asked, trying to find a way to plant seeds. “What does your future hold?”
“Well, I have a couple of parents up in Sequim I need to go find,” he admitted. Payton noticed the worried look cross his brow ever so slightly. “Though my Jewish mother is probably too stubborn for the disaster to have affected her.”
They both knew he was deflecting, but Payton had the sense to let it go. “I’m sure they’re managing, Doctor,” she said. Now isn’t the time to ask him…
“Please—call me Stu. I—I…” He started to choke on his words as his eyes turned moist. He missed Carmen.
“Stu.” Payton put her hand on his arm. “Whatever it is…” She paused and smiled until he looked back up at her. “We’ve all lost someone…we’ve all had to grow up—fast. It’s okay.”
“Thank you, young lady,” Stu said, composing himself again. He was starting to enjoy medicine again, especially when there was no rush to get the next paying customer onto an operating table.
