Endless Flames (Surviving Ashes, Book Four) (3 page)

“How long do we have?” Mav asked quietly, as the certainty of what was to come had settled heavily over the line.

“Paige doesn’t know and she went against specific directives even telling me the truth, so our conversation was brief.” Berke opened his office door and saw a couple of his staff members behind the counter. He muttered some curse words as he realized he would have to tell them what he’d heard, but would they believe him and act quickly enough? He hadn’t even given himself time to really let the gravity of the situation sink in. “Tank’s been right all along, Mav.”

“Listen closely, the population of Lost Summit is forty-eight, and that doesn’t include Ernie and Henley residing up at the lodge. The bunker can’t hold that many people for an extended amount of time, but I figure a lot of them will head north like I originally suggested. Those who stay could probably survive in town, but would fare better being up at the lodge.”

“You’ve changed your mind about that?” Berke asked, somewhat surprised at thinking Lost Summit could be a safe haven. They’d also had a conversation last night about the acreage the lodge was currently situated on and the fact that it was positioned in such a way that the mountains could serve as protection against the prevailing winds and therefore less ash would find its way onto the property. “You think the area is that well protected?”

“Tank has obviously spent a lot of his idle time planning for something like this and although we might razz the shit out of him for it, he’s come to some solid conclusions. In short, the blast radius of one hundred miles will initially be the worst area affected, but with the ash cloud reaching the East Coast within seventy-two hours…eighty-five percent of the United States is going to be buried under six hundred and fifty cubic miles of ash and debris very quickly. Lost Summit is reasonably protected from the blast and ash, at least until the winds of the northern hemisphere carries it around the earth. And even then we should be able to make do considering the valley has its own natural resources—natural water springs, Ernie’s natural gas well, and a screen of very large mountains in all directions. The bottom line is there will be no safe place to go, but we have a better chance in Lost Summit than anywhere else. So get your ass here as fast as you can but steer clear of the blast radius. Call the others and tell them what’s taking place while I head back to town. Take a circuitous route and bring what you can. Make sure you are well armed and bring all the reloading supplies from your shop if you can.”

Berke grunted, but didn’t answer right away. The significance of what was happening had caused his normally optimistic view to take a dive into the dirt. He needed to tell his staff, as well as stop by the sheriff’s office to let them know what was happening. His main obstacle was getting Sheriff Ross to believe him and get off of his lazy ass to mobilize the public.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Berke informed Mav, already formulating a motivational speech good enough to convince those in this rural little town that he wasn’t bullshitting them.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be able to have contact with each other after it erupts,” Mav warned, most likely getting ready to give Berke specific coordinating instructions. They both knew how this worked, although it had never been on this type of scale before. “The weight of the ash, especially if it rains, will take out most of the electrical grid fairly quickly. Try to stay in touch until then so we at least know of your whereabouts when time runs out. After that, use 14.275 megahertz during the day and 3.975 megahertz at night. We’ll monitor those frequencies for emergency transmissions until everyone arrives. Get the word out to the others.”

“I’ll see you soon, brother,” Berke murmured, wishing the conversation hadn’t had to end like this.

Berke disconnected the line and stared at his phone. He decided he’d reach out to the other three team members before leaving his office, because he’d be lucky to have enough time to pack up himself once he left these four walls. He somehow needed to get as much of his reloading equipment into the back of his truck as he could manage.

The gunpowder would need to be protected and he would need to store the primers separately. The casing and bullets for various rounds were just dead weight until they were married together with the other components with the right recipe. Measurements had to be exact or the ammunitions would either malfunction or destroy the weapon it was used in.

Being able to make his own ammo would be vital in the days to come. Commercially made ammunition would quickly run out and people would hoard what was left. He would secure the turret and progressive reloading presses he had on hand in a single footlocker along with every die set he had on the shelves in his small shop. Who knew what calibers people would bring with them when they arrived at the lodge. He would even pack all the shot shell hulls and wads he had so they could keep the shotguns supplied with rounds.

Owen Quade was the first one on Berke’s list due to his somewhat distant location. Being located in Florida would make his trip longer to Washington than anyone else. It took a good ten minutes to convince Owen that this wasn’t some fucked-up joke and that he needed to haul ass to Lost Summit to secure the bunker.

Next on Berke’s speed dial was Mason Sykes, who was currently residing on his secluded farm out on the plains in Nebraska. He was the loner of the group, but that was understandable considering what he’d endured on one of their last combat tours together. It didn’t matter that he liked his privacy—he was one of them and he was expected to rally with the team. He was family and every one of them understood what that meant. There wasn’t a member on this old team who had family outside of this unit…and that’s what made it so special to each of them.

The conversation went as Berke had expected, with a lot of convincing and the occasional “no shit” comment. Twenty minutes later, he was finally able to make the last call to Van Overton. He was the most serious of the group and wouldn’t want to react without viable reasons. By the time Berke was finished, Van agreed to meet with the rest of the unit up in Lost Summit. He would travel straight across, staying below the Canadian border and the Great Lakes for his trek from New York to Washington. He’d take the back roads in order to avoid the congestion and evade the mass of people making their way east.

“Hey, Berke,” Donnie called out with one rap on the door before walking in with a piece of paper in his hand. “Paulie is here and wanting to know if he can—”

“Close the range right now. Blow the cease fire horn and get all the shooters off the property ASAP,” Berke ordered briskly as he finally set his phone on the desk and ran a hand over his face with dejection. This wasn’t how his thirties was supposed to be spent—surviving the elements and avoiding encounters with other people trying to just survive the next battle. He’d done enough of that in the Corps and there had been times he’d thought they’d never make it out. They’d defied the odds then and they could do so again. “Close up shop and call a meeting with the staff as soon as the last customer is out the gate.”

Donnie slowly lowered his arm, crumpling the paper in his hand. He’d caught sight of the small load of firearms Berke had retrieved from his locker. He swallowed in apprehension before trying to say something when he decided against it. He turned hastily, leaving the door wide open, and set out to do as Berke instructed.

“Get your shit together, jarhead,” Berke whispered to himself, swiping his phone off of the desk as he stood with every intention of following Donnie. It was better to look upon these things as an important list of individual tasks that needed to be accomplished while maintaining one’s sense of humor or else the coming darkness had the ability to swallow a man whole. He tried. He damn well tried. “Looking on the bright side, it’s better than being wiped out by a fucking meteor.”

M
axie Denikin strolled
through the small south Texas police station with every intention of making a quick getaway after checking her email. She’d wanted to note her most recent arrest and ensure her written reports had been processed without exception. She wasn’t strictly on duty as it were and she certainly didn’t want to fall into the crosshairs of Sheriff Ross. He’d been in a hell of a mood yesterday and it wasn’t likely his disposition had changed in the last twenty-four hours with all of the recent homeland security hubbub. She wasn’t going to withdraw her request for maternity leave, as he’d so eloquently recommended. He’d eventually come to accept that he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Is today the big day?” Jean asked before taking a sip of what looked to be some type of smoothie from her most recent concoction of grass and leaves. The one and only dispatcher and administrative assistant was on a health kick and it apparently revolved around drinking liquefied nature in its purest form. Maxie instinctively tried not to gag as the green sludge made its way up through the thick straw as the consistency varied somewhat. She was all for healthy living, but there were much easier ways than consuming what appeared to be lumpy nuclear waste. “Now, I don’t want you worrying about this place. We’ll get along just fine.”

“I know you all will manage. As for Lee Durning, he is more than ready to go out on his own,” Maxie replied as she stopped at the counter in a manner that gave her a view of Sheriff Ross’ office. She was gone if that doorknob so much as twitched a fraction of a centimeter. “And yes, today is the day I finally bring Jacob home.”

Maxie couldn’t quite bring herself to turn and walk out the front door of the police station without pause. This had been her entire life up until now. She believed once that all she lived for were the chaotic days and long shifts. She still thrived on the camaraderie and the brotherhood she shared with her fellow law enforcement officers. She loved her job and fully admitted it defined who she was—a protector, a motivator—but a mother? How would that change her? Fear gripped her and she found herself wondering if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she wasn’t ready just yet.

“I’ve always believed that things happen for a reason. We all dance according to some cosmic tune,” Jean said softly, setting the glass of grass clippings next to a stack of worn brown folders. She leaned forward in her chair and rested her middle-aged hand on Maxie’s weathered forearm in reassurance. “Lou Ann can rest in peace knowing that you are going to take care of her little Jacob.”

Maxie wasn’t so sure Lou Ann would ever rest in peace. The disturbing images of Lou Ann’s body sprawled out on her bedroom floor with a needle sticking out of her arm while her ten month old son sat crying next to her was rather hard to dispel. The twenty-three year old girl had struggled since her early teens with a methamphetamine addiction, but had managed to stay clean just long enough for her pregnancy and a few months after giving birth. Lou Ann been doing so well, raising Jacob and working as a waitress in a not-so-desirable part of town when her resolve had weakened after a fellow addict had resurfaced. It wasn’t long afterward that she’d spiraled out of control, chasing the man, and losing the battle to the monkey on her back.

“I keep waiting for social services to say they’ve located some family member who’s been hiding in the woodwork,” Maxie said with a hint of fear in her voice before releasing the worried breath she’d been holding. The long, steady exhale did nothing to calm her nerves. She’d cut her hair recently to make it more manageable and was now wishing she’d kept it longer so she could play with the strands like she used to when she was stressed. No more locks to twirl around her finger and pull on as she chewed her lip. What had made her think she was mother material? “Or what if the father shows up and ends up selling the baby on the black market? Yes, Jean, this is where my thoughts are taking me. That’s a bad thing, right?”

“That young boy took a liking to you right off,” Jean exclaimed reassuringly, leaning back now that she thought she’d done her job. Maxie didn’t have the heart to tell her that it hadn’t worked. “Do you remember when you called from Saint Mary’s, telling me that you weren’t coming back to the station after your shift because Jacob would start crying every time you tried to leave the hospital room? There’s a real bond between the two of you or else you wouldn’t have visited him every day after they’d placed him in the custody of the state like you did, missy.”

“My dad always warned against getting personally involved with the subjects of investigations,” Maxie shared with Jean, recalling those days and nights she’d spent calming Jacob down when no one else would do. “He’s probably spinning in his grave like a pinwheel considering my actions lately.”

Maxie rested her elbows on the higher countertop that faced the door and propped her palms against her face in hopes that her doubts would fade and certainty would set in. The bell rang above the door, but she didn’t turn around to see who’d entered. They were a small town community and had no need for bulletproof glass or additional security protocols to see a deputy or the sheriff. The sheriff had an open door policy and the ringing only served as a reminder that she was now on leave—maternity leave to be exact.