One Second After (41 page)

Their training uniforms of college blue were now replaced with camo, donated by civilians of the town, a mixed lot of hunting gear, some military surplus, some of it way too big for the smaller girls in the ranks. But still it lent a military air. Some of the vets in the ranks sported helmets and
more than a few of them were toting firearms that would have triggered an ATF raid in the old days . . . a couple of Thompsons, AK-47s, street sweepers, a frightful-looking .50-caliber sniper rifle, and a number of exotic-looking assault rifles. Piled in the back of a truck were satchel charges, some primitive mines, and hundreds of tin cans packed with scrap metal and a blasting charge, to be lit with a match, then thrown.

Making them had been a tricky business, and one student had been killed and two wounded just after church service while packing a “grenade” when the charge went off.

It was indeed like something from long ago, John thought, watching as they came down Black Mountain Road and turned onto State Street, heading east to the gap. He stood to attention at the corner and saluted, standing thus until the last of the two companies of infantry and the company of auxiliary supports had passed. Though it was a solemn moment, he caught the eye of more than one of his former students, a flash of a smile, a subtle wave, as if somehow they were still kids playacting even as they toted rifles, shotguns, satchel charges, homemade bazookas and grenades.

He and Washington had nearly come to blows arguing about the plan, and for a few moments John felt that the two months of Washington calling him Colonel had been nothing more than tradition and playacting. And yet, in the end, Washington had at last deferred, though he warned it would triple their casualties and maybe cost them “the war.”

After the passage of the militia up to the gap, John then briefed the hundreds of civilian volunteers, some barely able to stand, as to their task and where to deploy, while Charlie made sure that two precious cattle would be taken up to the front and there slaughtered and cooked, with all being able to fill their stomachs before the fight. Kellor had pitched a fit over that, claiming it was better they went in with empty stomachs in case of gut wounds, but Washington and John had won out; better to lose some that way than have half the army collapse from hunger pains. The last few precious bottles of vitamins had been pulled out and each combatant swallowed a double dose as well.

Carl was leading down over five hundred more from Swannanoa, those still able to heft a gun and fight.

John finally felt that he had time to get away and get his family out. Their home was on what was being defined now as the front line and he had decided to move his family back up into the Cove near the college.
Jen's home, though abandoned for nearly two months, was still intact, though scavenged through, with a door broken along with some windows.

He pulled into his driveway, and with all that had happened he realized that he had left but nine hours before.

The two bodies were still out on the deck. The meat wagon had not come; in the heat, they were now drawing swarms of flies. Jen stood in the doorway, and as he got out of the car Ginger came up, head lowered, whimpering, almost scared, and Jennifer flung herself into his arms.

“Daddy,” and she started to cry.

He suddenly realized that he had become so preoccupied with the approach of the Posse that he had all but forgotten what had transpired here just this morning.

Jen came up to him and the look in her eyes told him something was wrong. Had there been more of them?

“Everyone OK?” John gasped.

“Yes, we're OK.”

“Thank God.”

“You look beat, John.”

“I really can't explain much now, Jen, but we only have an hour to pack up and move out. We're moving up to your house.”

“Why, for God's sake?”

“There's going to be a fight here by tomorrow. We're evacuating everyone on both sides of the highway.”

“John, we all need to sit down and talk.”

He felt Jennifer still in his arms.

He hugged her.

“I'm sorry about Zach, sweetie. He was a brave doggie. The best.”

“I know, Daddy.”

“John, there's something else,” Jen said.

He looked at her.

“John, come inside with me please.”

Too much was happening and her tone set him to a near panic. Was it something about Jennifer?

He broke her embrace and looked at her. Her features, though pinched and yellow, had not changed much.

“Jennifer honey, I think Ginger needs to play,” Jen said.

Her voice was not a suggestion and Jennifer registered it.

“OK, Grandma.”

“And make sure she stays away from those bodies out on the deck.”

The way Jen said it, the message of those words, struck John as yet another breakdown. Tell your kid to go out and play with the dog, but stay away from the men Daddy had shot during the night because your beloved golden might suddenly look at them as a meal.

He followed Jen into the living room. Elizabeth and Ben were sitting together on the sofa, holding hands, and somehow at that instant John knew. To his surprise, Makala was standing in the corner of the room, half-turned, looking at him.

Elizabeth looked up at him and took a deep breath.

“Daddy, I'm pregnant.”

Absolutely thunderstruck, he couldn't speak. He looked at Ben, whose arm was now protectively around Elizabeth's shoulder. Ben tried to look him straight in the eye and then lowered his gaze.

John turned away, fearful of what he might say or do, lit another cigarette, and walked to the bay window.

Jen came up to his side.

Behind him Elizabeth started to cry and Ben was whispering to her.

“John?”

It was Jen, standing by his side, whispering.

“For God's sake, John, do the right thing.”

He turned and looked back.

“How?” was all he could say, and he instantly realized the absurdity of it. At sixteen Elizabeth already so looked like her mother, and he remembered when they met she was twenty, he was twenty-one. Of course he knew how.

But this was his baby girl, who used to smother him with “smoochies” and say she would love him forever.

He walked towards them and to his horror he saw fear in Elizabeth's eyes. Ben then stood up.

“Sir. If there's blame, it's mine.” His voice was trembling and broke into an adolescent squeak. “It's my fault, not hers.”

“No, Ben. Both of us.”

She stood up and put her arm around him.

“Daddy, we love each other.”

He slowly sat down, shaking his head.

“My God,” he sighed. “You're kids in high school. College ahead.”

“Not anymore,” Elizabeth said, and now there was some strength to her voice. “Daddy, that's all over now. All over.”

He looked up at her.

She had always been slender, like her mom, but was even more so now.

Though he didn't want to say it, he did.

“Maybe the lack of food. Maybe that's why you're late.”

“No, John,” and for the first time Makala spoke. “I found a test kit. It's positive. She's going to have a baby.”

As she said the word “baby,” Elizabeth and Ben, like so many across the ages, looked at each other and smiled.

John looked at them, again how slender she was, losing weight. Though he was a Catholic, even a non-practicing one, the thought of abortion flickered, even though it was anathema to him. Having this baby might kill her.

“I need to think,” John said, and stood up, heading to his office.

He stopped at the doorway and then looked back.

“We have to evacuate in one hour. So start packing. . . .” He couldn't say any more and left the room.

He sat down at his desk. The bottle behind it, gone, damn it. He fumbled in his breast pocket and pulled out the smokes. He took one out and lit it.

Numbed, he looked out the window, at the backyard where Jennifer was throwing a stick to Ginger, who though moving slowly still was trying to play.

“John?”

He looked up. It was Makala.

“Am I intruding?”

“Yes and no.”

“Can I join you?”

He nodded and she took the chair by his desk.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

He sighed.

“The whole world has gone to hell. You know I killed two men this morning?”

“I saw the bodies. And they deserved it.”

“And Zach?”

“I'm sorry, John, about him. He died well, though.”

John lowered his head. Was it only hours ago? he thought.

“There's a barbarian horde coming this way and by tomorrow they might overrun us. If they do, all this will be moot. Jennifer out there will be dead, if lucky you and Elizabeth dead, all of us dead. The country . . . dead.”

“That's why you have to accept what happened with Elizabeth.”

“What? She's a kid, Makala. She was going to be a junior in high school, that son of . . .” He hesitated. “Ben a senior. My God, Makala. Accept it?”

“Kids younger than them have been getting pregnant for thousands of years. Especially in wartime.”

“Not my baby.”

“Yes, your baby,” and she reached out and touched his knee.

“Listen, John. You know and I know there isn't much chance. And they know it, too. They think they're in love. For God's sake I hope they are in love. They want that taste of life as much as you did, as I did, as any of us do.”

He looked at her and found he couldn't respond.

“Give them your blessings. I know it will be hard. But do it. I know the risk she faces as much, maybe more than you do. Give her that blessing for her to carry with her and give her strength.”

He saw tears in Makala's eyes.

“She's a good kid, John. You and Mary raised her well. Don't turn this into a moral question now. They were two scared kids, the world going to hell around them; it was all but inevitable it would happen. If not for this damn war, it'd have been different. But it's not. And you have to accept that.”

He nodded. “Tell Ben to come in here.”

A moment later Ben was at the door, standing straight, eyes wide. John motioned for him to come into his office.

“Sir. You can do what you want to me, sir. Just don't blame your daughter.”

And at that moment John softened. He could see the kid half-expected to see a shotgun or face a damn good thrashing. He had the guts to take it.

“You love my daughter?”

“More than anything in the world, sir.”

“Well, so do I. Her and Jennifer.”

“I know that, sir.”

John nodded. He didn't want to think too much further about how Ben loved her; no father really would. But John could see that, though seventeen, Ben was trying to be a man at this moment and would have to be a man in the days to come.

John stood up, hesitated, then extended his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” and Ben's voice cracked a bit.

John nodded.

“Just don't call me Dad yet,” he finally said. “I'm not ready for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

He knew Elizabeth, in the next room, had heard the exchange, and she came through the doorway and flung herself into his arms.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Now he did fill up. Her voice still sounded like his little girl.

He saw Jennifer standing in the doorway as well, smiling.

“So you're not going to kill them?” Jennifer asked, and that broke the tension for the moment.

“No, of course not, sweetie.”

“OK,” and she was gone.

He felt there was some sort of ritual required now, and as Elizabeth slipped out of his arms he took her hand and placed it in Ben's hand.

“Once the next few days are over, well, since our priest disappeared, we'll ask Reverend Black to do the marriage.”

Elizabeth smiled and leaned against Ben's shoulder.

“But we got other worries now. Like I said, we're leaving this house within the hour. Girls, you better pack what you can fit into the car. Ben, get down to your family and tell them to get out as well; have them come up to the Cove for now. They can stay with us if need be.”

Elizabeth and Ben looked at each other.

“You can do your good-byes later; there isn't time to waste. Tell your folks I'll drive your family up to the Cove in an hour, so be ready.”

He hesitated and suddenly it truly hurt, what he was about to say next.

“Ben. We're going to be attacked, most likely early tomorrow morning. You'll have to fall in with the town reserve guard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elizabeth started to cry.

“Daddy, can't he stay with us in the Cove?”

“Absolutely not,” Ben replied forcefully.

She looked at Ben and then back at John, eyes filled with tears.

“It's his duty now,” John said softly.

Ben looked at Elizabeth, hesitated, then kissed her lightly on the lips.

“I'll see you later, sweetheart.”

She couldn't reply, hugging him fiercely.

“Elizabeth, go help your grandmother and Jennifer pack.”

She hesitated.

Ben broke free from her embrace.

“I'll be OK, sweetheart. Go on now.”

Crying, she left the room, and Ben turned back to face John.

John opened his gun cabinet. Scanned the weapons and pulled out one of his best, an M1 carbine.

“You know how to load and handle this?”

“Remember, sir, you took me shooting with it last year.”

John checked the clip, it was full, and there was a box of extra ammunition for it.

“Take this; you're going to need it.”

Ben nodded.

“Report to Charlie Fuller. Tell him I've assigned you to be one of his runners.”

“Sir, you are not keeping me back, are you?”

John lied with the shake of his head.

“You'll be in the middle of it, son.”