Storm Tide Rising: Blackout Volume 2 (16 page)

Eric came over to his father, trying to catch his breath as best he could, and handed Joe a small patch of cloth. "That was stuck on the fence down on the back side of the garden," Eric said after a moment. "Looks like a group of four or five came through from the river. They hit the fence, then turned west toward Brant's place. We followed the trail for a little while to make sure they didn't try and cross the fence somewhere."

"This could have come off of our pants yesterday when we ran the fence," Joe said, but Eric was already shaking his head before the words were out of his mouth.

"Nope," Eric said, "none of us wearing camo yesterday, Dad. And I'm telling you, the trail was clear from the river to the fence, and then through the woods toward the west."

Joe glanced at Henderson who nodded his head once. "He's right, Captain. The trail was pretty easy to follow once Eric found it. He's a good tracker."

"All right," Joe said finally, "we'll keep our eyes out but it sounds like whoever it was moved on already."

"What about Brant?"  Eric asked when Joe didn't continue. "If this group was the one we heard shooting, then someone needs to go and warn him that they're coming."

Joe shook his head slowly. "Sorry, son, but we can't. Not right now. Brant knows how to take care of himself or he'd have never made it here from Raleigh. He's on his own for now."

"You can't be serious, Dad!"  Eric demanded, "This is Brant, and he could be in trouble already!"

Joe put his hand on Eric's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I know it's tough, son, but it's the truth. We've got neighbors coming who probably don't even know what's really going on yet. Brant had his chance to come with us, and he chose not to take it. You and I have responsibilities to deal with here first; then I promise we'll go and check on Brant when the time is right."

Eric opened his mouth again, but Joe squeezed his shoulder a bit harder, and his face grew serious. "I've told you what's going to happen, Eric. Now, I need you here one hundred percent, okay?"

Eric took a deep, angry breath, but nodded. "Good," Joe said and he released Eric's shoulder. "Is the fence holding up okay?"

Henderson answered, "Yes, sir, Captain. Even where we found the patch of cloth, it looked like all of the brackets held and the fence didn't slip."

"Good," Joe said, and he patted Eric on the shoulder. "You boys go and find Beth. I'm sure she'll have something that needs to get done."

Bill was carrying a pair of hanging baskets with pink geraniums blooming in them when he suddenly dropped the flowers, put the fingers of his right hand to his mouth, and gave a loud, shrill whistle. He pointed up the white dirt road and called, "Company's coming."

Betsy was the first there, and she hobbled up with a picnic basket hanging from one elbow, an aluminum cane in her other. She held a smoking Pall Mall between her fingers along with the cane, and she waved as she walked up the driveway.

"Peter and Paul are coming too, but they was walking too slow," Betsy said as she passed Bill with a nod and a suspicious frown. "Blanche!  I've got an egg casserole in here and about a half dozen raw eggs for you too."

Blanche came around the corner of the house just in time to meet Betsy in the driveway. She put an arm around the older woman's shoulders and ushered her into the shade under the sprawling oak.

"Who's the big fella in the driveway with the flowers?"  Betsy asked softly. "If he got his shoulder tore up that bad, I'd sure hate to see the other fella."

The two moved out of earshot and Joe couldn't hear anything else they said between them. Beth came out and put the finishing touches on the two buffet tables as other families from the road came trickling in a few at the time. By the time the sun was directly overhead, the entire population of Cutler's Run had shown up. Joe looked over the buffet tables and was shocked at the abundance of food. There were steaming pots of butter beans, four different Dutch ovens with some form of gravy-smothered chicken, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, salted pork shoulder, and more. Both long tables and the small metal table were full of dishes with barely enough room left over for the stacks of paper plates and plastic cups.

Levy stood at the head of the buffet tables and cleared his throat softly. Silence fell quickly and everyone turned to listen.

"Thank you folks for coming out today," Levy said simply. "Let us bow our heads and return thanks."

Levy reached up and took off his cap, and the rest of the men who wore a hat did the same.

"Lord," Levy said once it was quiet again, "we thank you for the chance to come together today, to break bread in fellowship. We give you thanks that, for now, in this moment, we are whole and healthy. We ask your forgiveness and your protection, and we ask these things in Jesus' name. Amen."

There was a brief rustle as hats were returned to heads.

"Well, if ya'll go hungry, it's your own fault," Levy said with a grin, "Dig in young'uns."

Despite the number of people in the yard beneath the oak tree, silence fell relatively quickly as people began focusing more on eating than on making introductions to some of the new faces and rekindling acquaintances with the more familiar ones as well. The only exception were the children, who paused just long enough to gobble down some food before racing off to play again. Blanche and Beth both called at nearly the same moment for them to stay out from around the food and the people still eating. That was all the excuse they needed, though, and they ran out into the vineyard to play tag.

When it looked like people were beginning to slow down and reach their fill, Joe stood from his seat on the back porch steps. He walked over to the head of the buffet tables and cleared his throat a couple of times.

"Well, like Levy said, we appreciate you all coming," Joe said finally, "but this wasn't just a social call. Ya'll know something bad has happened, but I can tell you it's worse than you probably think."

Joe went on to explain about the attack and how serious the damage from the electromagnetic pulses really was. He told them about the violence and bloodshed in Norfolk, and how it looked like it was being organized and orchestrated. He told them about Raleigh burning and their trip to MacPhail's Pharmacy in the edge of town. He held nothing back from them and did not try to soften the impact of his words. This was no time to try and shelter them from reality.

Finally, Joe ran out of terrible experiences to share, and a long moment of silence stretched in the shade of the oak tree. "Who was it?"  Paul asked, finally.

Joe shrugged slightly. "We don't know for sure. The Russians blamed North Korea and Iran, though that seems like an unlikely alliance. They were able to take out our satellites before we could establish effective surveillance and communication with our deployed forces. At this point, it doesn't really matter who did it. Our primary concern doesn't change, and that is survival."

Paul nodded, and Joe waited for more questions that didn't come. Finally, he nodded and continued. "Now you know how bad it is. The hard truth that I think most of you have probably figured out by now is that help just isn't coming. If there is some kind of organized response, and I find that very unlikely, they probably don't even know we're in trouble. They sure aren't sending any help our way any time soon. And things are going to get bad."

"The hell do you mean
get
?"  Betsy growled. "My husband's dead, the lights ain't just out, they're gone. And now you tellin us that it's gonna
get
bad?"

A few people chuckled, but most just frowned and looked at Joe with narrowed eyes. Joe took a deep breath before answering. "You're right, it's already bad. Fact is, though, it's going to get worse. Think about this, folks. People we know just got together day before yesterday and burned down a pharmacy because they were scared. Scared people—desperate people—do very dangerous things. Things they'd never do otherwise. We've got to stick together, watch each others' backs, and stand up for each other."

"What do you want us to do? Start shooting every stranger that walks by?"  Clinton, the old chicken farmer who lived at the very end of the Run asked.

Joe shook his head. "No, just try and keep people moving. Encourage them to find somewhere else to look for shelter. And protect yourselves. Protect each other. That's what we've always done here on Cutler's Run."

By the time Joe trailed off, every head at the table was nodding slowly.

"And if things ever get bad enough, and you need some place to go, come here," Joe said after a moment. "Our door's always open. Always."

Ch.25

Routine Inspection

Marcus paused, his hand on the door knob; then he turned it and walked into his workgroup's unit. One of the system programmers saw him walk in and stood. "Attention on deck!"  he called, and the others lurched to their feet. They glanced uneasily at each other, a few moving as if to raise a salute they weren't sure was warranted, and they kind of froze with their hands halfway to their faces.

Marcus couldn't help but chuckle. "At ease," he said awkwardly. "I think we all have a lot to learn about this whole military protocol stuff. Jeremiah, why don't you see what's in the library and put together a ten minute power point for tomorrow? We'll use that as the first half of the morning brief."

"C'mon Marcus," Jeremiah groaned, "I've got four code bundles I've got to sort through and check for open doors and other cracks."

"Lt. Commander," Marcus reminded him, "you always get your work load done twice as fast as the rest of us anyway, myself included. All I'm asking for is ten minutes."

After a brief stare, Jeremiah breathed a short sigh. "Yes, sir," he said with a wry twist to his mouth.

"Okay, now for the real reason I'm here this afternoon," Marcus continued. "I know you guys are busy, but I've been asked to go around and check everyone's printer access cards. If you could all line up and show them to me one by one so I can check your name off the list. Then I'll be out of your hair."

"What's this about?"  Samantha asked. "Sir," she added hastily.

Marcus smiled and checked her name off the list. He handed her printer card back to her and said, "As far as I know, it's just a routine security check. Given what's been going on the past few days, Commander Price thought we needed to make sure we're practicing good information security."

One by one, Marcus checked the names off his list. Everyone in his work group had their printer cards, as they were supposed to. Marcus went down the list one last time to make certain he hadn't missed anyone.

"We the last ones you're checking?"  Jeremiah asked as Marcus stood.

"No, you're the first," Marcus answered with a heavy sigh. "Looks like I'm working past shift change tonight. Don't forget that presentation, Jeremiah....or I guess I should say Ensign."

"Yes sir," Jeremiah said again, but with much less sarcasm. "I'm on top of it, sir."

Marcus nodded and stepped back into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. He ran his eyes down the list a third time, his eyes sticking on the two names with small dots next to them. He had half hoped that one of the two suspects in his unit would show up with their card missing, but it looked like it wasn't going to be that easy. The first group had been easy enough since he'd been their supervisor before the changeover to military ranks and protocols. Marcus walked a few feet down the hall and hesitated outside the next doorway.

Marcus' original group was in charge of system security and signal integrity. They were a sharp bunch, if a bit rough around the edges here and there. More than one would have qualified as a bona fide genius on the IQ scales, but they'd chosen a crappy life in government service over six or seven digit private contracts. That said at least a little bit about their character.

The next group was in charge of data encryption and storage. Marcus had never really worked much with them, and he knew none of the staff. Marcus stood outside the door to the work group, his palms sweating and his heart racing. For a brief moment, the thought of turning and running down the hall crossed his mind, but he ruthlessly pushed it away. He looked over his list for this group and found only one name with a dot by it, and he needed to find out if that person still had their key card. Marcus wiped the sweat from his forehead, straightened his collar, and then turned the knob. With one deep breath, he stepped inside.

One of the staff saw him and immediately snapped to attention, calling out, "Attention, on deck."

Every person in the room snapped to their feet and stood at rigid attention. The sudden movement caught Marcus a little off guard. He cleared his throat roughly and closed the door behind him. "As you were," he said finally, remembering the little bit of protocol he'd had time to study the night before.

"What can we do for you, Lt. Commander?"  inquired a man with gray at his temples and double bars on each side of his collar.

"Well, first you can tell me where you learned that, Lieutenant?" 

The man smiled and nodded his head slightly. "A few of us, myself included, had some prior service and some things stick, even after years, sir."

"I guess so, Lieutenant."  Marcus said softly. "Well, I'm here for a routine security inspection. I need to check everyone's printer access card, please."

The Lieutenant's eyebrows drew down briefly, but he didn't hesitate before calling out orders. In a matter of a few minutes, each of the staff had presented themselves with ID and access cards in hand. Marcus got the entire group checked off in a quarter of the time it had taken him to start his own work group.

"Anything else, Lt. Commander?" the Lieutenant asked.

"No, that's all for now," Marcus answered. "That was damned impressive, though. I might have you give the rest of the staff lessons. Most of us at this facility don't have the benefit of your experience."

The Lieutenant nodded, his expression never wavering. "Anything I can do to help, sir."