The day after: An apocalyptic morning (60 page)

              As the invaders moved further down Sycamore Avenue he took a moment to wonder if they had left anyone behind to keep an eye on the guard position. Logic told him that they wouldn't do that so he got up and dashed quickly across the street. Moving carefully in case logic happened to be wrong, he advanced house by house, his gun still in his hand, until he was standing against the garage door of the house next door. By now he was clearly able to identify the two lumps in the driveway as human bodies, and those of invaders at that. Their rifles were still lying next to them and the sharp smell of urine and feces was powerful enough to reach him even there. He wondered what the hell had happened. What were all of those metal fragments and what was that sharp, chemical odor that was almost strong enough to override the other stenches?

              Putting these speculations out of his mind, he returned to the task at hand. As Skip had taught his students during the training, he stepped slowly up the corner of the building so he could see if anyone was still over there. His pistol was pointed downward, not upward, as television cops liked to do. Though pointing up looked more dramatic to a viewing audience, it was much faster and more natural of a motion to bring a weapon to bear by raising the arms up from the waist then bringing it down from the shoulder. He poked his head around the corner and saw nothing but a bunch of empty shell casings along the wall. He took a deep breath and then dashed across the open space to the guard post's driveway.

              Over here the chemical and biological odor was much stronger, almost sickening. He could now see that the metal fragments that littered the driveway were from a can of insect spray. He could also see the .45 pistol lying broken in two pieces on the ground. He knew that pistol. It belonged to Paula. Its presence on the ground was a very disturbing sight.

              Anxious to get away from the choking pesticide and bodily secretion fumes, he continued to creep along the garage door until he was able to peer around and look at the front door. He saw that it had been opened and that two more bodies, invaders by the looks of them, were lying in the entryway. So nobody had made it into the house, or had they?

              Knowing he was taking a chance but confident in his ability to get away if the occupant turned out to be an invader, he called out. "Is anyone in the house? This is Jack!"

              It took a few seconds but finally a female voice answered back. "Jack? Is that really you?"

              "Yes," he answered. "Are you okay in there?"

              "I'm holding," she replied. "Who is with you?"

              "No one," he said. "I came from my house. I'm coming in, don't shoot at me!"

              "All right."

              Slowly, his pistol still in his hand, he trotted to the front door and stepped over the bodies that were lying there. "Where are you?" he asked.

              "Step all the way inside first," she said from somewhere above him. "I want to make sure you're not a hostage."

              "Right," he told her, coming towards the staircase. "I'm all alone. They're all gone."

              "Are you sure?" she asked.

              "I watched them go," he said, mounting the stairs and reholstering his pistol. "They're heading for the community center. Where's your radio?"

              She finally stood up, or at least she tried to. She was very wobbly on her feet. Jack was able to see a large stain on her shirt where she had thrown up. He was also able to see, though he didn't really want to, a dark patch in the crotch of her jeans where she had urinated on herself. She sat back down, leaning against the wall. "I got gassed a little when they hit," she said. "Some kind of nerve gas or something. I think I'll live but I'm pretty sick right now. I keep throwing up and... you know?"

              "It was Raid," he said. "I saw the cans outside. What the hell is going on? Where's Brenda?"

              "She's dead," Paula said. "They shot her through the wall in the bedroom. Are you sure they're all gone?"

              "Yes," he said, holding out his hand for the radio. "Give it to me, I need to talk to Skip. He needs to know they're coming."

              She handed it to him and he keyed it up. "Skip," he said, "this is Jack at position 2. Are you there?"

              It took about fifteen seconds but finally he replied. "Jack?" he asked. "What are you doing there?"

              "I heard the shooting and I came to see what was happening," he said into the radio. "I saw them, Skip. They've left the guard position and they're heading down Sycamore right towards you, moving fast. There are twelve of them and they are armed with rifles and pistols. They left here less than five minutes ago."

              Skip had, by that point, made his way out into the parking lot of the community center, where Mick was slowly assembling troops. After hearing Jack's report he took a look at the map he had spread out on the front seat of the fire engine, putting his finger on Sycamore Avenue. Adding five minutes to the corner of Sycamore and Blossom, accounting for a reasonably fast pace, he figured that he had three minutes, maybe four before the invaders arrived at the north end of the park. He took another look outside and saw that fifteen people, mostly women but a few men, were armed up. Only one or two of them looked like they might be halfway competent with the rifles they had been given. Most were fumbling as they tried to put ammunition in.

              "This is not good," he muttered, cursing Jessica and Dale for overriding his suggestion some weeks before that all guns be stored loaded, with the safeties on, in case of attack. He put the two council members out of his head and picked up the radio again. " Christine, are you there?"

              " Christine here," her voice responded immediately.

              "Have you been listening to Jack's traffic?"

              "Affirmative," she told him. "I copy twelve armed men heading down Sycamore Avenue towards the community center."

              "Good," he said. "I want you and Maggie to take your weapons, as much ammo as you can carry, and get to the corner of Manzanita and Sycamore as fast as you can. Hole up over there where you can see what's going on and report to me when they pass by. You should be able to get there before them. Hold your fire until you're told. Report only for now."

              "Copy, Skip," she said. "We're on the way."

              "Jack," he said next, "are you still with me?"

              "I'm here, Skip," his voice said.

              "Take the 16 and the radio and go as fast as you can to the corner of Cypress and Manzanita. Find yourself a place to hole up there. Take any extra ammo you have as well. Wait for orders there."

              "Got it," he said.

              "Is Paula still okay?"

              "She's sick but she's chillin'," he answered.

              "Good," Skip said. "Tell her to keep chillin'. We'll send someone to get her as soon as we can. Position 4 and Position 5, you guys just keep your eyes out. I'll call you if I need you."

              He stuffed the radio back in his pocket and stepped down from the fire engine, grabbing the AR-15 he'd taken from the supply room and slinging it over his shoulder. Jessica and Dale, both with shotguns in their hands, were standing directly behind him, listening to everything he did. It seemed like Jessica wanted to say something to him but he pushed by her, going over to Mick.

              "Mick," he said. "We got about three minutes or so until they're here. There are twelve of them, armed with rifles and pistols, and they were last seen moving south down Sycamore. I'll take the people you have here and deploy them over on the far side of the parking lot, by the playground. You go inside and get another group together. Get yourself a radio and stand by for orders. I'll probably have you firm up the far side of the building. You'll be able to find reasonable cover behind the cars and trucks parked out there. Don't come out with less than ten people though and whatever you do, don't let anyone else out of that building until I say so."

              "Right," Mick said, turning and running back towards the door.

              Skip then turned to the motley collection that he had. "All right, people," he said. "Get your weapons locked and loaded and follow me. We got twelve armed men heading our way from the north."

              Bill called a sudden halt to his eleven troops. "This road here," he said, pointing at a side street that went off to the east. "It leads to that other road that goes along the east side of the park." He turned to Glenn Paxton, who he figured was the least incompetent at command. "Glenn," he told him. "You take Mike, Steve, and Lou and keep moving south, until you get to the last row of houses before the park. Find cover there and start shooting at anyone out front. If no one's out there, shoot a couple rounds anyway to try and draw any fire they have."

              "What are you gonna do?" Glenn said, terrified at the thought that he was being put in charge of something.

              "I'm gonna take the rest of the guys and hit them from the east. While you're keeping them occupied, we'll move in. Be careful not to shoot us."

              "But..."

              "Just do it," Bill yelled. "Now." He slapped him on the back to get him in gear.

              Glenn reluctantly gathered his task force together and led them down Sycamore. Once they were on their way, Bill and his group began heading east. When they got to the corner, they hooked back to the south.

              Skip was finally getting his own troops into something approximating good positions. He had then deployed on their bellies behind the wooden planks that made up the large sawdust pit within which the jungle gym was contained. He himself was lying in the middle, directly between Jessica and Dale, who were both trembling like paint-shakers.

              "Maybe I should go help Paul," Dale said suddenly. "He doesn't know the store room as well as..."

              "Shut up," Skip told him. "Don't be a fucking pussy. If you run, everyone else will run too and we'll all die. You're supposed to be a leader here, goddammit."

              "I wasn't trying to run," he said, near-tears from fear. "I was just thinking that..."

              "Don't think," Skip said. "It's not your strong suit. Just stay there in that position until I tell you to do something. You too, Jess. Remember, you two have shotguns, not rifles. Shotguns are only good for close-in defense. Unless someone gets within ten yards of us, you shouldn't have to shoot at all."

              "And what if they do?" Jessica asked.

              "Then point it at them and shoot," he said. "You have double-ought buck rounds in there. It's like a hand grenade, it doesn't have to be aimed exactly on target, just close, okay?"

              "Like a hand grenade," Jessica said talismanically. "Like a hand grenade."

              "Skip, this is Christine," barked the walkie-talkie. "Are you there?"

              He picked it up and keyed it. "I'm here."

              "We're in position now and they just passed us," she said. "But there was only four of them."

              "Confirm only four?" he asked.

              "That is affirmative. Only four. Moving south at a good clip in a line formation. I can still see them now in fact. They should be near the front of the park in less than a minute."

              "Copy, Christine," he said. "Hold tight and stand by for further orders. Chances are we'll be needing you."

              "Copy."

              "Four?" Jessica said. "What happened to twelve? Was that boy exaggerating?"

              "I don't think so," he said, keying the radio. "Mick, are you there?"

              It took a moment but finally he answered. "Mick here."

              "Do you have a squad ready to go?"

              "You could say that," he said doubtfully. Skip understood.

              "Get over to the east side and deploy where I told you to before. It sounds like they sent eight of them around that way to flank us. The four heading our way are probably for diversion and cover."

              "Moving now," Mick responded.

              "Flank us?" Dale asked. "What does that mean?"

              "It means they're trying to send a group of them around to the other side to attack us from that direction. Mick and his people should be able to prevent that." He keyed the radio once more. "Jack, you out there?"

              "Almost in position," he answered. "I copied Christine's traffic. You want me to cut over to the east a block or two?"

              "You read my mind," Skip told him. "Take position at Elm and Manzanita instead. If we drive them back, they're gonna be coming right at you so keep your weapon on automatic and leave yourself an escape route."

              "Right," Jack told him.

              "Jack is out there?" Jessica asked. "What is he doing out there?"

              "He's the spring on the little trap we're setting," Skip said, dropping his radio and picking up his rifle again.