Point of Crisis (11 page)

“That must have been one of your best performances. Sorry I missed it.”

“Well, most of it was spent on my knees with a gun to my head, but it worked out better than I anticipated,” Eli said, circling Bridgton on the map with one of the pencils. “Shit, it was like winning the lottery.”

“I presume we get something out of the deal?”

“While we train their people at our compound,” he said, winking, “we’ll provide them with men, on a trial basis, to work at each checkpoint. If it all works out, this will get their police officers back into a patrol role within the town. They’re having a bit of a problem handling the summer crowd. I was more than happy to help out.”

“They bought off on having armed militia in town?”

“Only at the checkpoints, and our folks will be unarmed.”

“Unarmed?”

“To build trust,” he said, grinning wickedly.

“You got me, Eli. What am I missing? I figure this isn’t your charitable side flaring up.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Not for the good people of Bridgton, apparently.”

Eli pounded the table, laughing. “And I thought everyone’s sense of humor faded away with the electricity. You should have seen the car ride today. Holy Jesus, I was riding around with a bunch of stiffs.”

“So what exactly am I missing?”

“You’re missing the part where we simultaneously execute half of Bridgton’s police force and take over the town.”

McCulver studied the map, tracing roads from Bridgton toward the coast.

“How do you see Bridgton fitting into all of this in the long run? It can’t be our new base of operations. Too exposed.”

“I figured we’d get as many new recruits as possible, even if we have to conscript folks. Grab enough people to work the fields. Probably take as much equipment as possible. Tractors. Buses. Any of the public works stuff that’ll still run,” said Eli.

“So, you don’t want to hold on to the town permanently?” said McCulver.

“Like you said, it’ll just make us targets. We’ll keep it long enough to get what we need.”

McCulver placed his finger on a point halfway between Sebago Lake and Portland.

“Did you know there’s a state correctional facility in Windham?”

“Jimmy spent some time there.”

“So did most of the guys in his crew. They think we might be able to solve our recruiting problem with a trip to the facility. Might be a solution to our manpower issues.”

“I assume the prison guards won’t let me set up a booth in the cafeteria to take volunteers,” said Eli.

“Probably not.” McCulver laughed. “But I wouldn’t be completely surprised if the guards haven’t taken off already. They spent over a hundred million dollars rebuilding the entire men’s facility three years ago, and everything’s automated, completely dependent on electricity. Once the juice stops flowing to the system, every secure door in that facility goes into countdown mode. Thirty minutes until every secure door opens permanently. I guarantee the corrections officers are keeping a close eye on the backup generator’s fuel supply. We just need to get there before the doors open, or we’ll miss the recruiting opportunity.”

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for? Let’s get some eyes on that prison.”

Chapter 9

EVENT +5 Days

Limerick, Maine

Alex kissed Emily on the forehead and stroked her hair for a few seconds. “Good night, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. When is Ryan coming down?”

“Really soon.”

“Can you send him down now?”

“He should be down in a few minutes.”

“Is everyone going to sleep down here?”

“Most of us will be upstairs, keeping an eye on the house, but Nana and Grandpa will be down here. The old people need their sleep,” he said, and his daughter laughed.

“I heard that,” said his mother, who was propped up on an air mattress next to the door leading out of the “bunker.” The 20-gauge shotgun leaned against the wall next to the mattress.

“What about the Thorntons and Mr. Walker?”

“They’ve been down here all night. We’re airing them out for a while. You’re in good hands down here, sweetie. Nobody can get in here without going through all of us first.”

“I wish you and Mom could sleep down here.”

“Me too, but you’re safer with us upstairs. You have Ethan and Kevin sound asleep right next to you.”

“I’m not asleep,” said Ethan.

“You should be asleep,” said Alex.

“I’m not either,” Kevin chimed in.

“Great. Well, your cousins can attest to Nana’s skill with a shotgun, and so can I.”

Emily sighed. “I wish there were more Marines.”

“Nana’s like three Marines combined,” he said, and they laughed.

“Watch where you’re going with that,” said his mom, Amy Fletcher.

“We’ll have more Marines here in a few days,” he said and kissed Emily again. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

“Love you, guys.”

“Love you, Uncle Alex,” Kevin and Ethan mumbled.

“Things will get back to normal. I promise,” Alex said and stepped away.

Samantha Walker and her three children appeared in the doorway.

“See? The basement’s filling up fast,” he said and walked over to the door to greet her. “We have a bunch of camping mattresses for the kids. Blankets, sleeping bags, non-shot-up pillows—a couple of overprotective grandparents. I think the kids will be fine down here.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” said Samantha, stepping through the door with her family.

“I only charge ten dollars an hour,” said Alex’s mom.

“I brought a nineteen-year-old. Do I get a discount?”

“Can she use a shotgun?”

“Not yet,” said Chloe.

“Seven dollars.”

“Deal,” said Samantha.

“They can take whatever makes them comfortable,” Alex offered. “I don’t think we’ll be spending much time down here tonight.”

“Probably not,” Samantha said, leading her kids into the candlelit room.

“Abby, thanks for hooking up my laptop to the video receivers. From what I understand, you’re running the tech show around here.”

“Pretty much,” said Samantha’s daughter.

“She was the only one that could read your writing,” said Amy.

“Funny, Mom. I’ll see you upstairs in a few.”

Alex walked over to the bulkhead and flashed his light at the metal doors, confirming that they were latched to the ringbolts imbedded in the basement floor. No matter how hard anyone tried, the doors would not swing open unless he detached the thick metal retaining rods from the bolts. Satisfied that the basement was secure, he walked upstairs into the kitchen, which was lit by a combination of candles and green chemlights donated by the Marines. Staff Sergeant Evans sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through the ruggedized tablet he had removed from the Matvee. His face glowed from the soft red screen.

“Are the Marines settled in for the night?”

“Yes, sir. I have the vehicles positioned to give 360-degree coverage, two Marines in each vehicle. We set up an LP/OP at the entrance to Gelder Pond Lane. I had them move into position after dark. They have clear lines of sight down the eastern side of the road in front of your property and the road leading to the western side. Ideally, we’d have another along the pond, but I’m the only one left. I’ll be on the thirty-cal up in the master bedroom. I can cover nearly 270 degrees around the house from that room.”

“Perfect. I’ll come by around zero-two-hundred to give you a break.”

“I should be fine, sir.”

“When’s the last time you caught any meaningful sleep?”

“It’s been a while,” Evans admitted.

“I’ll at least bring you and your Marines some coffee.”

“Sounds like a fair deal.”

“Thank you, Staff Sergeant. This means a lot to me, my family—all of us,” said Alex.

“I’m just glad we can help out while we’re here. I’d want someone doing that for me,” said Evans.

“Anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I know you guys are temporarily assigned under my command, but I consider this to be a personal favor that you’re doing—”

Evans started to protest.

“Nope. I don’t want to hear any arguments to the contrary. My house is your house. Seriously.”

“Well, I don’t—”

“Staff Sergeant?” Alex said, shaking his head. “You need something, you ask, or send someone who doesn’t mind asking.”

“Thank you, sir. I was going to say, that between your mother and your wife, we haven’t had to ask. They’ve been really generous. Very much appreciated.”

“Good, then I’ll expect you to catch up on some sleep tonight,” said Alex, patting him on the back.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sir.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’ll get out of your way,” said Evans, grabbing his tablet and rifle.

“Good night, Staff Sergeant.”

“Night, sir.”

Alex walked into the great room, searching for a seat. Unsurprisingly, half of the group appeared to be asleep. Breathing deeply, Ed Walker lay on an air mattress pushed under the windows to the right. He was turned on one side; his bandaged hip off the mattress. Linda and Charlie sat side by side on the leather couch, with their bandaged legs resting on small pillows on the coffee table. The soft, flickering glow of candlelight from one of the end tables exposed Charlie’s gaping mouth, though his buzz-saw-like snoring left little doubt about his status. Linda hit her husband’s shoulder.

“What? What happened?” he said, jolted out of a shallow sleep.

“I just figured out why we got kicked out of the basement,” said Linda.

“What do you mean?” asked Charlie.

“You sound like a foghorn.”

“It’s not that bad,” he countered.

“It’s pretty bad, my friend,” Alex said. “I’m starting to wonder how we still have the Jeep.”

“He probably scared everyone away,” added Ed.

“I used those nose strips,” said Charlie.

“I hope you stocked up, for Linda’s sake,” said Kate.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the bullet-peppered wall to the left. She was partially concealed in the shadow cast by the La-Z-Boy occupied by his father. In the dim light, the room almost looked normal, except for the numerous dark splotches in the drywall and the various rifles leaned against the furniture or walls. Alex unslung his rifle and hung it on the wood-burning stove, taking a seat in one of the folding chairs set up around the coffee table.

“Sam should be right up,” said Alex. “She was getting the kids settled.”

“What about Ryan? He’s been up in his perch long enough,” said Kate.

“I’ll have a talk with him. I don’t think Emily will fall asleep without him in the basement.”

“I’d sleep better knowing he was upstairs,” said Ed. “He saved our skins yesterday.”

“I wonder where he gets that from?” said Linda.

“Runs in the family,” said Kate. “Alex’s dad served two tours in Vietnam as a Marine lieutenant.”

“I didn’t know your dad was in ’Nam. You should have said something, Alex,” said Charlie.

“He’s pretty much read every book and watched every documentary on the Vietnam War—twice,” said Linda.

“More than that,” added Charlie.

“Dad clams up pretty quick when the subject is brought up, except around his Marine Corps buddies,” said Alex.

“That seems to run in the family too,” commented Kate.

“Charlie, we can talk history anytime. Did Alex tell you about this rifle?” said Tim Fletcher, lifting his rifle off the floor and setting it in front of the lounger.

“Now he’s mister talkative,” said Alex.

“That’s not from Vietnam, is it?” asked Charlie.

“Damn right it is. I used this as a military advisor. Tracked it down by serial number when they switched over to those plastic guns.”

“He got a congressman involved,” said Alex.

“He was a TBS classmate,” said Tim.

Charlie twisted on the couch, trying to get a better look at the rifle. He grimaced in pain when his foot shifted on the pillow and slid to the surface of the table.

“I got it,” said Alex, lifting the bandaged leg high enough to replace the pillow. “How are you feeling?”

“A deep, throbbing pain has replaced the holy shit agony I was feeling most of yesterday. The pain pills help.”

Alex examined Linda’s foot. The hospital had provided a large, easily removable splint, which enclosed the bandages covering her ankle.

“What about you, Mrs. Rambo?” asked Alex.

“I’m still at the holy fuck level most of the time,” she said.

“Me too,” said Ed.

“You guys taking your pain meds?”

“No,” said Linda. “They give me a headache.”

“I’ll take them off your hands,” said Ed.

“Probably not a great idea right now,” said Alex. “Let’s talk it over with Corporal Allen when he makes his rounds. He has some stronger stuff, if necessary. If you can’t sleep, let me know, and we’ll get you something.”

“I won’t have any trouble sleeping,” said Ed, “as long as I’m not in the same room as Foghorn Leghorn.”

“Can I get a separate room?” said Linda.

“Everybody’s ganging up on me again,” Charlie whined.

The basement door slid open, revealing Samantha Walker and Amy Fletcher. Alex’s mom carried the shotgun in the crook of her elbow.

“We good for a few minutes?” asked Alex.

“I think so. I told them we’d be at the top of the stairs,” said Samantha, sitting on the single step leading into the great room.

Alex’s mother joined her, leaning the shotgun against the half wall separating the kitchen from the sunken great room. “First things first. We made it,” said Alex, pausing to let the words sink in. “We’re all here, more or less in one piece. The kids are fine. Given the curveball we were thrown, I’d say we’ve done pretty damn well as a team.”

“I’ll second that,” said Charlie, followed by hushed agreement from everyone.

“With that said, we still have a long way to go.”

“I can’t imagine it getting any worse,” said Ed.

“Jesus. What the hell else could they throw at us? They left twenty-nine bodies behind,” said Samantha.

“I’m more concerned with the bigger picture. I have a few things I want to share with you. Information I’ve gathered over the past forty-eight hours. When you add it to the HAM radio broadcasts, we—”