He scanned the room, careful not to make eye contact with Gary Cupp a couple of tables over.

  He needn’t have worried. Gary seemed totally mesmerized by the soup he was pretending to eat.

  Everyone else in the common area of the cell block… the area everybody called the day room, was totally oblivious to what was about to go down.

  He hoped everything went smoothly.

  He looked at the table, closed his eyes and said a brief prayer.

  In the supply room Richard Sears was out of the ventilation duct and squatting in the shadows in the back of the room.

  By his side were his men: Paul, Red and Tony.

  Each man was rubbing his hands furiously in an effort to warm them.

  They likely only had one shot apiece before all hell broke loose. If they missed they probably wouldn’t have time for another one.

  And if they missed, good people would probably die.

  The cold outside was absolutely frigid. Even with gloves on their fingers grew numb.

  And numb fingers aren’t exactly conducive to accurate shooting.

  As they warmed their hands Richard conferred with Marty.

  “Marty, you got any ideas?”

  “Yeah. I do, since you asked. I’ve got two men out there sitting at tables close to the hack shack. The bad guys took most of our weapons, but they’ve each got a can of wasp spray.”

  “Wasp spray? What good is wasp spray?”

  “Better than you think.

  “It’s a lethal nerve agent.

  “It shoots up to twenty five feet in a stream. And it’s better than mace. It works faster and it’s stronger. It’ll put a grown man on his back in five seconds flat. He’ll be so busy trying to catch his breath and see he’ll be absolutely defenseless.”

  “Will it kill him?”

  “Probably not, unless he’s got breathing or heart problems. But it’ll certainly incapacitate him until we can disarm him and tie him up.”

  “And you’re sure about this?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Okay. What’s your plan?”

  “I told my men to stand by. To just hang out until something happened. Then they’re to spring up and help out.

  “I told them if you had a better plan I’d go out and get word to them to stand down. Otherwise, to listen for the gunshots.”

  “Gunshots? From us, I presume.”

  “Yes. I knew that Lenny was carrying an AR-15. I knew the gate keeper had one as well. And I knew you armed up when you went outside to coordinate the search for Lenny.

  “So I knew you’d come back with three rifles.”

  “Unfortunately they took Lenny’s after they shot him.”

  “Then where’d the third one come from?”

  “From the guard tower on the catwalk.”

  “Nice. I forgot about that one.

  “Okay, here’s my plan.

  “They’re all huddled on the hack shack platform. You can’t see all of it from the angle of the room, but from that side of the room you can see at least half of it without leaving the shadows and being seen yourselves.”

  “That’s why the lights are out?”

  “Exactly. You can see out but they can’t see in.

  “My plan is for each of you to pick a target whenever three of them are in view.

  “Once you’re all sighted in, count down and fire simultaneously.

  “Three of them will drop. My two men out there will take out the other two.

  “And I’ll be out there as well with a throwing knife. If anything goes wrong I’ll take someone out.”

  “That’s all you want us to take? One shot and we’re done?”

  “That’s all. One shot apiece. After that all hell will break loose. Any additional shots you take might be in a crowd.

  “I’d much rather you take one shot and come out to help with the aftermath.”

  Richard thought for a moment.

  It wasn’t a perfect plan.

  There was no such thing as a perfect plan.

  But he didn’t see any glaring flaws in it.

  In theory it should work.

  He had only one more question.

  “Which one is the bastard who shot my boy?”

  “That would be Sennett, the leader. Tall. Dark hair. Black sweater.”

  “He’s mine.”

  “Understood. That’s only right.

  “When you’re almost ready I’ll head out and mingle. It’ll take me about three minutes to get into position. You can fire anytime after that.

  “I wouldn’t take too long, though. The longer we wait the more chance they’ll disperse. And that’ll make things a hell of a lot harder.”

  Richard said, “My hands are about back to normal. How about you guys?”

  Paul said, “I’ve been ready, waiting for you guys.”

  Tony said, “Another minute I’ll be good.”

  Red was a Hispanic man with a full head of jet black hair. His nickname came not from his hair color, but rather his habit of always wearing red. It was his favorite color.

  He didn’t have a weapon, but was chomping at the bits to help.

  “I’ve had my hands in my pockets most of the time. My hands are warm. You guys want me to switch out with you?”

  Paul lightened the mood just a tiny bit by saying, “Are you kidding? You’re a worse shot than my dead grandmother. Your job will be to rush out and help after the shooting stops.”

  -17-

  Richard Sears had always considered himself an unlucky man.

  Oh, he had a lovely wife in Ruth. She was everything he could ask for and more. Perhaps that was the only thing he’d gotten right.

  He’d come from a large family. So had Ruth.

  Between the two of them they had eleven siblings.

  They were brought up thinking large families were an asset, not a curse.

  They loved their brothers and sisters with bonds they couldn’t make with mere friends.

  They wanted their children to experience the same kind of childhood and wanted several kids.

  But that wasn’t meant to be.

  They tried. Lord knows they tried. Well into their thirties they were as active as a couple of love struck teenagers.

  But in all their years they were able to produce only one son. Richard Junior was destined to be an only child.

  They were both tested for fertility and told nothing was wrong.

  “There’s no good reason you’re not able to produce more offspring,” they were told. “Sometimes it just doesn’t happen. But there are medical procedures that can help.”

  But Ruth was adamant.

  “No. If it doesn’t happen it’s God’s will. I won’t do any medical procedures which contradict His wishes.”

  Now Richard was gone. Their bloodline had come to an end.

  For a very long time Richard thought that bad luck and fate had teamed up against him.

  It wasn’t just the children. He bought a newspaper just before technology started wiping them out one by one.

  He finally got around to investing in the stock market, just before the crash in 2008.

  Lately, it seemed that Mr. Murphy, of Murphy’s Law fame, had joined bad luck and fate and between the three of them they were trying their best to ruin him.

  It seemed that if anything could possibly go wrong it would.

  Richard thought Marty’s plan had a great chance of success.

  If the bad guys were huddled together on the platform and had three rifles aimed at them from just ninety feet away, it was like taking candy from a baby.

  Or maybe more appropriately, shooting fish in a barrel.

  That would thin the numbers back in their favor.

  For even if the shooters took a pass from that moment it would still be two bad guys versus three good guys.

  The bad guys were armed, but the element of surprise would cancel out that advantage.

  And if Marty was right, if the wasp spray would incapacitate a fully grown man in mere seconds, then two good guys should be sufficient.

  Richard had seen Marty practice throwing his knives.

  He was good. As good as anyone he’d ever see.

  It was a dying craft, but Marty had mastered it.

  Whether the other two bad guys were taken out by a faceful of nerve agent or the six inch blade of a tactical knife didn’t matter much to Richard.

  As long as they were taken out before they hurt anyone else.

  No, Richard didn’t see anything wrong with Marty’s plan.

  He said to Marty, “Go. We’ll give you your three minutes. After the three minutes is up it’s on us.”

  It was at that moment that Richard, peering out the open door and into the common area, caught a glimpse of a body lying next to the raised platform.

  Luckily he couldn’t see Richard Junior’s face. It might have driven the small bit of restraint he had left right out of him.

  The body was lying on its side, with a full view of his son’s back.

  Richard could clearly see a small round hole, in the center of his son’s back, surrounded by a blood stain.

  “Son of a bitch shot him in the back, like a coward!”

  “We’ll make them all pay,” Paul said. “How do you want to do this?”

  The hack shack wasn’t directly across the common area from them. It was on the other side at a steep angle. They could only see their targets by huddling on one side of the darkened storage room and shooting out the open door.

  “Paul, get in the prone position on the floor.

  “Tony, go to one knee. Plant your grounded knee between his legs, your other foot to his side.

  “I’ll be directly behind you and fire from a standing position.

  “Don’t choose the bastard in the black sweater. He’s all mine.”

  As Marty strode nonchalantly into the day room and worked his way close to the platform he caught Ace’s eye and winked.

  Ace managed a slight smile.

  Marty went to Gary’s table and asked him, “How’s the soup?”

  “It’s good, Marty. Real good. Have a seat and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  The tables were the same ones inmates once used to while away their days. They were made of stainless steel and bolted to the floor. Each table had four stainless steel stools anchored to the floor in a similar manner.

  Marty said, “Don’t mind if I do,” and took the seat to Gary’s right.

  As he did so he reached into his right pocket and positioned his tactical knife, point up, ready to throw.

  It had already been two minutes.

  The action would start soon.

  He left his hand in his pocket and gripped the blade.

  He was ready.

  Richard took a deep breath as he lined up his sights on Sennett.

  He was ready too.

  The problem was he forgot who his real enemies were.

  He forgot he had Murphy sitting on one shoulder and bad luck on the other, with fate standing behind him ready to push him down.

  He’d forgotten Murphy’s Law: if anything can possibly go wrong, it will.

  -18-

  Some people, like politicians and movie stars, firmly believe this great earth of ours revolves around them.

  Some feel in their own minds, and sometimes even express to others, that they’re of such value, so important, that the world couldn’t possibly go on without them.

  They’re absolutely wrong, for the death of a single man has no affect on the grand scheme, the big picture.

  People come and people go, and it’s often the case that at the very moment a life comes to the end of its journey another is born.

  It’s the way of the world.

  Man dies, babies are born, and in that way the human race lives on.

  It’s been that way for a very long time. If it weren’t that way I wouldn’t be putting these words on paper and you wouldn’t be reading them.

  At the very moment Richard and his friends were getting ready to snuff out the lives of very bad men, a woman of thirty one was cursing a blue streak.

  At her husband Brad.

  Deep inside Salt Mountain, to the north and east of tiny Junction, Texas, Sami was deep in the throes of labor.

  It was her first child, and she’d told everyone beforehand she was ready for whatever pain was to come; that the baby would be worth it all.

  She tried to act big and bad and brave and tried to minimize the labor pains.

  Of course, since she hadn’t been through it before she had no way of knowing.

  A comedienne once said that labor pains are akin to taking one’s eyelid and stretching it over one’s head.

  Another said giving birth to a baby is the rough equivalent of passing a kidney stone the size of a two story house.

  “I can handle it,” Sami told her friends in the weeks prior to her due date. “I’m tough, and it’ll be a piece of cake, you’ll see.”

  “No it won’t,” said her best friend Hannah.

  “It’ll be a piece of hell. But I’ll be here every step of the way, you’ll see.”

  And she was.

  There holding Sami’s hand, that is.

  On the other side of her, taking the brunt of her abuse, was husband Brad.

  Brad put on the same airs Sami did, about being all big and bad and tough.

  Watching his beloved give birth, though, was freaking him out.

  Not only was he turning green at the sight of the whole thing, he was being yelled at.

  “You did this to me!” Sami shouted. “This is your fault! You’re never going to touch me again!”

  He knew the words weren’t hers. Not really. They came from a place deep inside of her. A place he was never meant to communicate with.

  And he loved her with all his heart and soul. He’d take away her pain in an instant and burden himself with it, he really would.

  But that was impossible, so he’d just stand there, taking her verbal abuse, letting her squeeze the life out of his purple fingers, until it was all over.

  Debbie was the only one at the mine with any medical training. She’d been a licensed Emergency Medical Technician for several years before Saris 7 struck the earth.

  She was in charge of the birth, since she’d delivered several babies before. Usually in the back of an ambulance on the way to a hospital in cases where impatient babies just couldn’t wait any longer.

  Hannah and Sarah, Sami’s other best friend, had taken midwife courses in anticipation of a long period underground.

  But they gladly stood by and yielded to Debbie’s experience.

  While Hannah gripped Sami’s other hand and studied her own painful purple pinky, Sarah dabbed at Sami’s face with a cool damp cloth.

  “We’re almost there,” Debbie calmly said as the baby’s head crowned. “A little more pushing and we’ll be done.”

  Sami seemed angry not only with Brad, but with the rest of the world as well.

  “What’s this we crap? We? If we’re doing this, let’s switch places. You can lie here on the table and I’ll squat in front of you like a major league catcher waiting for the pitch. How about we do that? Huh?”

  Sami turned back to Brad and said, “You’re never making love to me again, you creep!”

  Debbie took it all in stride.

  She knew that after the baby was born and the pain finally subsided Sami would apologize to her.

  She’d had patients before who went to great lengths to find that unnamed woman in the back of that ambulance who they’d verbally abused so badly. To track Debbie down and say they were sorry for their behavior, that they were in such great pain and didn’t know how to handle it.

  She’d always told them it was okay. That she understood because she’d been there before herself.

  That she took no offense.

  Brad, on the other hand, was in a bad way.

  Debbie could tell by the look on his face he was taking her words to heart.

  This was all new to him as well. And she’d always been honest with him in the past.

  When she called him every name she could think of and told him he was never to touch her body again he believed her.

  At one point Hannah reached over and patted Brad’s hand, to send him a signal everything would be all right.

  It didn’t escape Sami’s notice.

  “You can have him, Hannah. You’re welcome to him. He can put you down here next time and I’ll watch from the sidelines. ‘Cause he damn sure ain’t ever touching me again!”

  At that moment a call came over the ham radio at the control center.

  “This is Jason the Brewmeister with a general call-out.

  “I’m looking for Hannah Jelinovic or Hannah Snyder. I have reason to believe she might be monitoring this frequency. If you’re out there, Hannah, please respond.”

  Mark just happened to be working the control center, since most of the women were sitting outside the tiny clinic waiting to rush in to congratulate Sami and Brad and to fawn over the new baby.

  Mark didn’t have a clue who this strange man was on the radio looking for his wife.

  But even if he’d known his response would have been the same.

  “Sorry, Hannah can’t come to the radio right now. She’s kinda busy.”

  -19-

  Life in Jason’s underground bunker was awfully lonely.

  Boring as heck too.

  One of the biggest decisions a prepper has to make is how many people to take with him when the world goes to hell and he has to bug out.

  It’s a decision he doesn’t take lightly, for the wrong decision very well can shorten his life.

  Bugging out with several people means better security and more allies should the prepper have to defend his property.

  But every additional body means additional food and water requirements.

  And the faster stores will be used.

  Jason made a decision early on not to invite anyone else into his bunker with him.

  His logic was simple.

  Although he had a lot of friends, he was the only single one among them. He had no siblings and his parents were both dead.

  Since his friends all had spouses, and most of them had children, they’d insist on bringing their loved ones in with them.

 

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