Murphy's Law (Roads Less Traveled Book 2) (36 page)

“Good job guys. At this rate, we’ll be finished by 2 o’clock,” Michael said and passed around a jug of water.

He was right. For the first time since jumping in to help, I looked around and noticed how close we actually were to the riverbank. So close in fact, that I could see the boats tied to the dock behind the club. This bit of security made me smile, and looking around at the others, I wasn’t the only one. For the time being, the military and the swarm had been forgotten. Once again, the repetitive and overwhelming nature of hard physical labor took our minds off everything else, and allowed us to focus again. Almost felt normal. Almost.

As we prepared to lay the last course of block on the last section of wall, a distant rumbling noise suddenly broke through the air. Having gotten used to a new “world,” devoid of cars and people, a noise like that got our attention immediately. Everyone froze; John, Jonah, Todd, and Eric holding blocks, Troy, Michael, Jake, and myself holding trowels loaded with mortar, and Abby, Mia, and Nancy standing around the wheelbarrow mixing the last batch of mortar. We looked around at each other, no one saying a word, and listened as the rumbling grew louder and louder. It wasn’t a vehicle (it was coming from above), and it wasn’t thunder (the sky was clear and beautiful). Before I could figure out which direction the noise was coming from, Michael dropped his trowel and jumped off the makeshift scaffolding we had set up.

“Everybody get down!” He kneeled down next to the wall, his back pressed tightly against the concrete and his face tilted up at the sky.

Of course we followed his lead, not exactly sure what was going on. If it had him spooked we figured it was something to worry about. We huddled against the wall, and the closer the noise came to our location, the less it sounded like rumbling.

“What the fu─”

Jake started to yell next to me, actually right into my ear, just as a huge plane barreled over us, so low it seemed for a moment to be heading straight into the river. Our eyes followed it east until it disappeared over the next ridgeline. Ten sets of wide eyes fixed on Michael.

“That was a C-23... That was a fucking C-23!” He jumped to his feet, his eyes still staring at the last spot in the sky where the cargo plane had been visible.

After taking a few steps away he turned back, his face a mix of fear and relief. “They’re used for transports and airdrops.” His voice lowered, like he was trying to figure something out, thinking out loud. “It couldn’t have come from the prison...” One hand came up to cover his mouth and he turned his back to us. He was facing west. “Must have come from the base…I’ll be damned, what the hell are they doing?”

His answer came in the form of an incredibly loud explosion, just to the east. The same direction as the swarm. Michael dropped to his belly quicker than any man I’d ever seen, while the rest of us huddled even tighter to the wall, covering our ears and watching the sky. The first explosion was followed by three more in quick succession. Granted, they weren’t enough to shake the ground under our feet, and the sky was thankfully lacking a bigass mushroom cloud, but an explosion is still an explosion.

Post-Z,
any
loud noise is enough to warrant a change in underwear.

After what I considered to be an appropriate length of silence, I slowly inched up the wall until I was standing. The others were only waiting for someone to make the first move, so once I was up, they were springing to their feet and asking a thousand questions, none of which Michael could answer. I felt sorry for the guy; just because he was military didn’t mean he was in on The Secret. The Reason. The Mission. He didn’t have a clue, and it was obvious by the look on his face. The kids had come screaming out of the house, three of the youngest had cushions strapped to their asses, and were running in circles next to the porch. Chaos had erupted, and over what?

“Guys,” I said.

Jonah was the only other person being quiet, standing off to my left with his arms crossed and his head tipped down, watching everyone from under the brim of his hat.

“Guys,” I tried again, a little louder.

Michael was still trying to field dozens of questions being shouted at him by half a dozen people, all at once.

Guys!” I finally screamed.

Everyone stopped talking and flailing their arms around.

“What?” a few of them said together. I put my hands on my hips and stepped closer.

“First, will somebody
please
shut those kids
up
!” I love kids, but the hooting and hollering was damaging the last thread of calm I had left.

“On it.” Abby hurried off towards the house. The others remained silent; I think they finally realized how ridiculous they’d been behaving.

“Second, Michael doesn’t know any more than we do. Okay, maybe a little more, but he doesn’t know what the hell is going on, alright? So back off.”

I felt slightly bad speaking to my friends that way. To the others, not so much. If they wanted to act like children, then they would be treated as such. I know I broke my new rule, the one I’d made back at the prison, about keeping my mouth shut and paying attention to how many toes I stepped on, but there’s a limit to the amount of bullshit a person can listen to before they finally just say “Fuck it!” I had reached that limit.

“You all know damn well they just blew that swarm to hell and back. The thing we need to be worried about right now is finishing this wall, then getting inside and keeping watch. I don’t think anybody here is stupid enough to think those guys aren’t going to come knocking sooner or later. I know a block wall won’t stop them if they want what’s ours, but it still needs to be done. Just because they’re out there,” I paused to jab my finger in the direction of the prison, “doesn’t mean we don’t have to worry about deadheads anymore. So let’s get this shit done, I’m getting hungry.” Then I turned around and climbed back up the scaffolding, took up my trowel, and began laying down mortar. Maybe I overstepped my boundary. Someone had to be the voice of reason.

“You heard the lady, let’s get to it, people,” John barked after a moment. With that, the new residents of the Winchester Country Club finished their concrete block wall, six hours ahead of schedule.

* * *

It wasn’t until after supper, and just before dark, that a major flaw in the wall presented itself. We probably wouldn’t have noticed it when we did, had it not been for the Army showing up.

“Michael, this is Jake, come back.”

He was on the roof, along with Troy, John, and Abby, keeping watch. The kids were blessedly asleep upstairs with Gus, and the rest of us were sitting around the dining room table when the call came in. Michael pulled the walkie from his belt with a deep sigh, laid his fork down and pushed back from the table.

“Go ahead, Jake.”

We could already hear the roar of engines in the distance.

“We got Humvees headed our way.” Jake’s voice sounded flat, emotionless. That was a bad sign.

“How many?” Michael asked.

“Three.” Then he laughed before continuing. “Did anyone notice we didn’t put a goddamn gate in the wall? Not even a door?”

Michael closed his eyes. “Are you kiddin’ me, Jake?”

“Hell no, man. There’s no door!”

Jake was slow in letting his thumb off the mic; his loud laughter filled the room. So after a good stress-relieving laugh of our own, the rest of us shoved back from the table and went out to greet our visitors.

“Hey, Todd, take Eric and grab a couple ladders from the shed. Bring them to the wall would ya?” Michael said. The two men nodded and ran behind the house.

“What are they doing now, Jake?”

Michael had the walkie pressed to his mouth and was speed-walking toward the wall. Jonah, Mia, Nancy, and myself walked a step behind him, letting him know without a doubt who we thought should be in charge and do the talking.

“Just sittin’ there.”

“Alright. Let me know if they make a move.”

Eric and Todd ran to catch up, making all sorts of racket with the extension ladders they both carried. Once we stood at the base of the wall, Michael leaned his rifle against it and pulled his jacket off.

“Listen up. Let me do the talking.” He pulled his faded white tee shirt over his head. “No one give your name, even if they ask for it. Just let me handle it, and go along with whatever I say.” He put his jacket back on and zipped it to his neck, then tied the tee shirt to the barrel of his rifle.

The ladder brothers shifted the ladders around and let them slam against the wall. Michael and Jonah helped adjust the height, and once they were sticking up just above the top of the wall, Michael turned to me.

“I want you there with me. Wait ‘til I wave you up,” he said, then the radio chirped on his hip. “Yeah, Jake?”

“We got a dude gettin’ out of the first Humvee. Big, bald, wearin’ camo. Passenger side. His driver is stayin’ put. You got the business ends of four rifles aimed right at the ladders, so watch your head, man.”

“Thanks, Jake. Keep your scope on the big bald dude. Tell the others to aim for the shooters. I know that leaves one, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He grabbed his rifle with his right hand, held it out to the side, and started climbing up. His white tee shirt poked up and bobbed above the wall before his head and body, and he waited there, just out of sight, until the man on the other side spoke.

“Hello on the wall!” a deep voice shouted. It had the gruff of an older man to it.

Maybe this will turn out okay
.

Michael glanced down at me, then carefully stepped up the rungs until his head and torso were in plain view of the men on the other side. He let go of the ladder to raise his empty left hand up, a sort of universal sign of truce, then lowered his rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Michael answered back. All we could see now was his ass and back, but it seemed to be going well.

“I’m Captain Waters, currently stationed out of Blueville Correctional Facility. Are you the leader of these people?” the phantom voice asked.

“Yes. Name’s Michael Kirlin.” His voice was so calm and steady, even I almost believed the boldfaced lie he’d just told.

“Where the hell did he come up with that name?” Mia leaned over and whispered. I reminded her of the town called Kirlin we’d passed through on our way to Blueville, then looked back up at Michael, who was waving me up.

“Shit. Here, take this.” I handed my rifle to Mia and stepped up to the next ladder. Jonah grabbed my shoulder before I could get up the first couple rungs.

“Be cool, Kasey,” he warned. I thought that was weird, but I humored the man and nodded.

“Mr. Kirlin, we’ve been ordered to survey the local area, inventory all survivors, see to the wounded, etcetera. How many people are currently living behind this wall?” the captain asked.

I was almost to the top when Michael stopped me, then began making exaggerated hand movements, motioning as if he were helping me up the last few rungs, apparently letting the gunmen know there was someone else coming up next to him. It seemed a little too dramatic to me, but I preferred that over getting my head blown off. I plastered on my best poker face and came into view. The man who had been doing the speaking was indeed a big dude, and was clearly in charge. He noted me with a quick glance of his eyes, then did a double take when he realized I was a woman.

“Ma’am,” he said, his voice a touch lower in volume. Michael twisted to face me, gave me an odd smile, and tilted his head in the captain’s direction.

“Captain Waters here would like to know how many people are living with us, sweetheart.”

I raised an eyebrow just barely, which caused Michael to tip his head towards Waters again and wiggle his eyebrows. I lifted my chin a bit, letting him know I understood, then turned to fully face the good captain.

I hope Michael knows what he’s doing
.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked.

Waters lowered his head and clasped his hands behind his back, sighed, then looked back up towards us. Weary patience practically oozed from him, and suddenly it dawned on me why Michael had wanted me up there with him.

“Ma’am, we’re not here to stir trouble. And we mean you and yours no harm. We’re only here to find out how many survivors are at this location, and if you need any sort of assistance, medical or otherwise. We have resources, most of which we are willing to share, with however many survivors we can find in this area. May I address any other concerns you might have?”

He had taken on a totally different attitude with me, which both relieved and pissed me off at the same time. Sure, he was being more open and honest. He was also talking to me like I was a child, not condescending or belittling, but damn close. I bit my lip and looked over at Michael, hoping he could read my face as well as I thought I was reading his. He smiled genuinely this time and nodded as if to say “Let ‘em have it, girl.” I returned my attention to Waters.

“As a matter of fact, you can, Captain. Just whose orders are you following here? Last time I checked, the United States damn near died last October. Now, people like us have been surviving out here on our own for what, the past five months? Where’ve you been?”