Half Past Midnight (13 page)

Ken stepped out of the front door at that point, looked warily at our standoff in the front yard, and saved me from having to make such a decision. “Problem, Leeland?”

“Yeah. Officer…” I glanced quickly down at his badge. “Kelland seems to be very eager to speak to Amber. Would you mind getting her?”

“Sure thing.” Ken left quickly.

Kelland stared at me through his shades. He must have seen he wasn’t going to be able to bully his way past me, but now he was sure I was trying to hide something. So he tried a different approach. “There some reason you don’t want me to come in? Hot as it is, seems like that’d be the hospitable thing to do.”

“Officer Kelland, I don’t know what I’ve done to piss you off so much, but ever since the first time you saw me, you seem to have had it in for me. You were rude at the roadblock, and you were rude when you stepped out of your truck just now. Now I realize, as far as you’re concerned, I’m city folk, and I’ve got no business in your town. I also realize that ever since those bombs fell, everyone has been under a lot of stress. But I’ve got news for you, Amber is family, and technically, I’m her guest. So she’s the only one around here I have to please. And she’s the only one that can tell me to leave. Until that happens, my family and I are here to stay. That means that this is now my home.

“Now, I’ll grant you that things have changed a lot, but not so much that you can come up here flashing a badge and a gun and forcing your way into people’s homes.” I stopped for a second to catch my breath and let him absorb the implications of what I had said.

“I’m not city folk any more, Kelland. I live here. I’m Rejas folk. And you might need to get to know me a little before you start playing your little mind games.” I glanced at his right hand, still resting on his holster. “So if you think for one freaking minute that I’m going to invite you into this house with your sorry attitude, you can just jump up my ass and fight for air.”

I turned my back on him and walked to the house. I wasn’t sure if he would get the message, but where I grew up, to turn your back on someone like that was one of the worst insults imaginable. It showed nothing but contempt for anything they could do.

Of course, I also watched his reflection in the front window as I left. I saw the curtains in that window move slightly as I stepped up to the front porch, so I knew that someone was watching us from inside. Sure enough, Amber met me at the front door as I came in with Ken beside her holding the deer rifle.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “What’s he doing here?”

“Wish I knew.” I shrugged. “He wasn’t real inclined to tell me much, and I didn’t exactly help matters any.”

“How’s that?”

“I think I insulted him a little.”

“Gee, thanks. So now that you’ve buttered him up, I’m supposed to go talk to him?”

“You want me to go out there with you?”

She peeked out the window again at the fuming Officer Kelland. “No thanks,” she said dryly, “It looks like you’ve helped enough.”

“Would you rather I invited him in?”

She sighed. “No, I guess not. But I’m not looking forward to this.” Taking another deep breath, she opened the front door. “Well, I guess I’d better find out what’s going on.”

“We’ll keep an eye on you.” Ken raised the rifle as she left.

I smiled. “What’s the matter, Ken? You act like you don’t trust the nice officer.”

He didn’t even bother turning back to face me. “That’s the sumbitch that stuck a gun in my face. See if it doesn’t change your attitude about a person.”

I tried to hear what they said, but Amber and Kelland spoke too softly. At any rate, the discussion lasted only a few minutes before Kelland turned, got back in his truck, and left.

We both pounced on Amber when she came back inside. “Well, what did he want?”

“They need me at the hospital,” she replied solemnly. “I wrote on my form that I was a retired nurse, and now it seems they’re swamped with people suffering from radiation poisoning. They need any experienced medical personnel they can get. Fifty-seven deaths and over three hundred hospitalized.”

It was grim news, but we had known it was coming. We also knew it was going to get worse. Rejas was a pretty small town of less than ten thousand people. It also happened to be the site of two hospitals, each with about two hundred beds. Evidently, they were already doubling up.

She looked me in the eyes. “One of the deaths was the chief of police. That means the officer you were oh, so charming to is now the head authority figure around here.” I groaned.

“You picked the wrong man to mess with this time, Leeland.”

She reached up and ran her finger across the scarring line at my throat. “I would have thought you’d know better by now.” She sighed. “Well, no use crying about it now that it’s done. I need to get to the hospital. Would you mind if I took the van? There’s no telling when I’ll get away, and it’s not like I can call you when I’m ready to go.”

“No problem. When are you planning to leave?”

“There’s no reason I can’t go now,” she said. “There’s nothing here someone else can’t do. I’d be more useful at the hospital.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic. She was useful at home, but medicine had been her chosen field for many years, and I couldn’t expect her to ignore its call.

I turned to get the keys from where they hung on the wall in the kitchen. Debra handed them to me before I had completely turned around. She, Cindy, and the kids had all come in the back way to see what the commotion was about. Walking in on the end of my conversation with Amber, Debra had known with that special sixth sense of hers what would be needed.

I passed the keys to my mother-in–law. “Take care,” I told her. “We’re going to need you back here.” Not very eloquent, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was the first time any one of us had been separated from the others. It seemed like one of those occasions that should be remembered as significant. But in reality, it was simply Amber going to work. Everyone else gathered around for hugs and goodbyes.

Five minutes later, she was gone.

* * July 4 * *

The next day, trouble visited our neck of the woods. It wasn’t subtle, like the dangers we had begun to accept as a part of every day life. We didn’t need our PRDs to detect it, or to take extra precautions with our garbage to prevent it. It was loud, and we knew it immediately for the threat that it was.

A short volley of gunfire, followed by several seconds of silence. It sounded like four or five guns being fired at random. Nearly fifteen seconds passed, then more gunfire. Sporadic, this time. Five or six shots, then silence. Then, nearly a dozen shots. And again, silence. It went on like that for nearly two minutes before the short echoes of the last shot were absorbed by the forest.

We were all working on a homemade waterwheel we planned to erect over the small creek that ran down from the spring. If it worked, we would soon have fresh running water and electricity. As soon as we heard those gunshots, however, our priorities shifted radically.

Actually, that wasn’t quite true. When we first heard them, none of us wanted to believe what we were hearing. It wasn’t until the second volley that Megan asked what the rest of us had been too afraid to. “Are those gunshots?”

Ken got to his feet first. “Let’s get everyone inside.” None of us argued as we scrambled for the house.

“Megan, get the rifles out of the closet,” I ordered. “Extra magazines for each.” She nodded and ran ahead. “Ken, are you any good with a rifle?”

“Six years in the Marines and several years of hunting. Good enough?”

I was surprised. He’d never given any indication. “Yeah, how about you, Cindy?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a long time, but Ken got me interested when we first got married. He thought he could get me to go hunting with him, but I couldn’t see shooting defenseless animals and—”

Ken interrupted, “Cindy, we don’t have time for your life history, baby. Just a yes or no.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Yes, I can shoot.”

We entered the house to find Megan laying various firearms out on the floor of the den—dad’s old .30-06 deer rifle, a twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun Amber kept around for “shootin’ varmints,” and a .300 Winchester Magnum, a rifle with more kick than a mule.

In addition, we had the spoils of our encounter with Larry and company: a Winchester .22, the AR 15, two Kalashnikov semi-autos, and the grand prize, a old 9mm carbine with a helical coil magazine that held one hundred rounds. It had been Larry’s personal weapon. Mine now.

Four pistols also lay on the couch, as well as the one Megan now wore on her belt. All in all, not a bad little arsenal.

There was no question as to whether or not we would investigate. We couldn’t afford to wait and see what happened. After all, that had been a lot of gunfire, and we were in no position to call the police.

“Okay,” I said. “Who goes, and who stays?”

Zachary piped up. “I wanna go!” Quick in the way of an eight-year-old boy, he turned toward the pistols on the couch.

Debra caught his shoulder. “The kids and I will stay here and watch things while you’re gone.” She knelt in front of Zachary. “Zach, I need you to stay here with me. I’m too scared to stay here alone.”

Zachary frowned, probably sensing he was being manipulated. “But I need to go with Dad.”

Debra turned to me, her eyes asking for help.

“Zach, come here.” I said it conspiratorially, appealing to the part of every child that wanted to be an adult. “Your mom won’t admit it, but she’s afraid of guns. She’s probably going to need some help loading them. Can you do me a favor and look after her?”

Still appearing unsure, but willing to be talked into it, he finally agreed. “Well, okay.”

“I’ll stay with them,” Cindy added.

“I’m going.” Megan sounded as if she expected an argument. In truth, I had mixed feelings. On one hand, she was my daughter, just sixteen years old, and I couldn’t help feeling that I shouldn’t allow her to go into a potentially dangerous situation. On the other hand, however, I would be happy to have her help. After all, I had trained her myself, and she had held up under the pressure of a tight situation to save my bacon once already.

“Fine. Ken?”

“I’m going,” he said. “You’ll need me to show you the back trails through the woods.”

I nodded and picked up the carbine. “Everybody, take your pick.” I headed back to the bedroom that Debra and I shared. I reached under the bed and pulled out two canvas sport bags, then quickly stripped down to my underwear. One was my trusty bag of tricks, which I immediately dug into and began strapping my hidden arsenal into place.

When finished, I reached into the other bag and pulled out several pairs of camouflage pants, shirts, jackets, and gloves. That bag contained all of mine and Megan’s old paintball gear. Still in the bag were a couple of protective face masks, several safety goggles, a dozen smoke bombs, web belts with plenty of pouches, two paintball guns, and other paintball paraphernalia.

I slipped on camouflage pants, a t-shirt, and a jacket over most of my toys, until I was dressed much as I had been on the drive out from Houston, except camouflaged from head to toe. I also grabbed half of the smoke bombs and stuffed them into a pouch on my web belt. Each one would put out a huge cloud of thick white smoke when you pulled the ring on the side. They had been a lot of fun when playing paintball and worked well in thick brush.

I left the room in a hurry. “Megan,” I called, “your cammies are on the bed in our room. Make it fast!” She grabbed one of the Kalashnikovs and headed for the bedroom.

I turned to Ken. “There are some more cammies in the bedroom. When she comes out, why don’t you see if any of them will fit you?”

Ken waved and went back to coordinating the defense of the house with Cindy and Debra. With the rest of us leaving, it would be up to the women to defend the homestead if anything happened. It quickly became obvious that Ken knew more about firearms than I ever would.

He had never mentioned his hitch in the military during our two week incarceration in the shelter. They were evidently memories he preferred to forget, but he hadn’t forgotten the knowledge of weapons he’d acquired. He went from Debra to Cindy, recommending weapons and positions for defense of the house. I just watched, listened, and learned.

Debra had a problem with depth perception, so she got the .30-06 with the telescopic sight for long range where she could take her time in aiming. If any action began to get close, she would have to switch to the twelve-gauge so the spread could help compensate for her vision.

Cindy got the Kalashnikov that Megan hadn’t taken. They had enough ammunition to take on a small army, and Ken showed Zachary how to load rounds into the empty magazines for the various firearms. Everyone was taking it very seriously. Maybe it would turn out to be nothing, but it sure hadn’t sounded like it.

Megan emerged dressed in her camouflage. In addition, she wore one of our old team patches on her shoulder and had slung the crossbow across her back. She had already proven herself with it, and we might need a good, long-range, silent weapon. Her philosophy and mine were much the same; better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

While Ken hurried into the bedroom to change, Megan and I took the opportunity to help each other stretch our legs and arms for maximum flexibility and blood circulation. It occurred to me that this was the first time since we had gotten here that we had so much as thought about our martial arts training, and I vowed it would become part of our daily routine.

Ken returned wearing cammies. He had helped himself to one of my sheath knives, as well. Everyone was ready, or as ready as we were likely to get. We told the women we would be back before dark and set up recognition signals, so they wouldn’t shoot us if we came back in a hurry.

I turned to Megan. “Just one more thing. This isn’t paintball.”

Her face was set, silent and intense. She tended to get that way when concentrating on something important. I had seen her like that many times before sparring in class or tournaments.