The Perseid Collapse (21 page)

“Stop! Right! There!” yelled Alex. “Drop your weapon, and put your hands on top of your head!”

“Where are you?” said Michaud, shifting his aim in Alex’s general direction.

“Last chance, Jeff! Drop the shotgun, or I’ll shoot!”

Jeff Michaud paused, looked to both sides, and lowered the shotgun. Not good enough.

“Drop the shotgun!”

“I’ll leave! This is all I have to defend Jamie and the kids,” said Michaud.

“Either you drop the shotgun, or I’ll help you drop it.”

“I’m walking back to my house, Alex—and I’m taking this with me,” said Michaud.

“I’ll kill you if you take a single step with that thing. Last warning, Jeff!”

“You wouldn’t do that to Jamie and the kids! She’s already lost one husband,” he said, lifting his left foot out of the mud.

The rifle kicked, and Michaud dropped. The suppressor reduced the sound of the gunshot to that of a compressed-air-powered nail gun. With no background noise to compete, the sound would be heard clearly throughout the neighborhood and the street behind the Walkers’, but it wouldn’t register definitively as gunfire. Only someone with experience using suppressed firearms would be able to make the determination based on a single shot—not that anyone could call 911. He turned off the IR laser and stood up.

“You there, Alex?” said Charlie.

“I’m here. Jeff Michaud is dead.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Come out of the back door to the garage. Are we all clear, Ed?”

“All clear on the street, but something’s going on in Jamie’s mudroom. It’s hard to tell, but I saw some movement inside.”

“We’ll take care of it. Be careful by the window, Ed. Do like I showed you.”

“I’ll keep you posted. Are you sure Michaud is dead?”

“One hundred percent. Headshot,” said Alex.

“And we just leave him there?”

“Do you want to give him a proper burial?”

“Not really,” said Ed.

“Alex, was that a suppressor?” added Charlie.

“Let’s not transmit stuff like that in the open. Everyone cut the chatter. I’m headed across the backyard.”

The suppressor attached to his rifle was not registered with the ATF, and would most certainly land him in jail if discovered by authorities. He’d purchased it with a thick envelope of twenty-dollar bills after a gun show, hoping never to need it. He had a feeling it would be prove to be worth every penny in the upcoming days.

“Shit. Sorry, man. Probably just the echo or angle of the sound waves,” said Charlie.

“You done yet?” said Alex.

“Now I am. Out,” said Charlie.

They were using a privacy-coded subchannel within a rarely used public channel that had been silent all evening. He highly doubted anyone was listening, but he preferred they maintain better radio discipline. When they reached Boston, all of the channels would be busy, and finding a clear subchannel might present a challenge. He also wouldn’t be surprised if law enforcement officers within bigger departments were monitoring all of the available channels and subchannels.

With the grid down, handheld radios would become one of the only reliable forms of longer-range communication within the cities. Controlling the handheld channels or monitoring them would become critical. It was something they needed to keep in mind when navigating the city.

He replaced the radio and fought the mud on the flat ground above the easement lip. Tactically, the better move would be to use some of the sloped earth for cover and traverse along the axis of the ditch, but the mud was difficult enough on level ground, and the steep gradient led right into chest-high water. He had no plans for a midnight swim. Alex kept his rifle trained in the direction of the garage corner as he approached. Charlie’s form appeared in the door, and Alex signaled for him to cover the back of the house.

They had worked out very basic military signals for use on their trip. With Charlie aiming in the direction of the deck, he focused all of his attention on “slicing” the corner, finding the side of the garage clear of intruders. He’d patrol the front of the house, sweeping around back and linking up with Charlie. It was the only way to be sure Michaud didn’t have an accomplice lurking in the shadows.

He detected movement across the street, from Jamie’s mudroom stoop, but nobody emerged. It was hard to tell, but the green image cast by his night vision goggles suggested that the mudroom door was open. She was probably waiting for the Jeep to pull out of the garage before she started carting luggage into the driveway. Almost on cue, the front screen door opened, revealing at least two figures carrying luggage onto the stoop. Alex slid along the back of the garage to join Charlie.

“Side is clear. It looks like Jamie is pre-staging luggage for a quick departure,” said Alex.

“Damn,” said Charlie, “what do we do?”

“Send her a message,” said Alex, “once I confirm that we don’t have any more surprises waiting for us.”

Several minutes later, Alex returned to the garage corner with Michaud’s shotgun. “Anything new?”

“Nothing. Jamie’s sitting deep in the mudroom, watching the garage door. The girls are somewhere close by inside,” said Charlie, keeping the night vision scope on his rifle pressed to his face.

“The far side of the house is clear. Let’s send the message,” said Alex.

Alex followed Charlie into the garage and knelt next to the rear left tire of the Walkers’ disabled Honda Pilot. He braced his rifle against the side of the SUV and disengaged the safety. His trip to check the other side of the house had given Charlie enough time to communicate with Kate, who would make sure that everyone stayed clear of the front windows. He had no idea how Jamie would react to this message, and his search of Jeff Michaud’s body didn’t turn up the Glock 19.

Charlie pulled the toggle line connected to the garage door and stepped to the left side of the door. “Ready?”

“Open sesame,” said Alex.

The door jerked upward and started to roll on its track. By the time the door had reached the apex of its journey, Jamie and her daughters had started hauling the luggage off the porch. Alex activated the IR laser and directed the beam at Jamie’s chest. She reached the end of the walkway before stopping to stare at the open garage bay. She waved her hand behind her and hissed something at the girls that caused them to leave the luggage and scurry inside.

Alex guided the bright green beam past her head, placing it on the light fixture attached to the garage behind her. The rifle barked, sending a .223 bullet past her head at 3,000 feet per second. If the crack of the bullet didn’t make an impression, the sudden obliteration of the glass light enclosure should deliver the message.

Jamie lowered her body. Alex fired another round over her head, striking the top of the garage door behind her with a hollow thump. He hoped the Walkers’ garage would channel the sound of his suppressed rifle forward, limiting the directional extent of its detectability. At this point, the repeated sound would draw attention. He waited for her to react.

“I didn’t have a choice! He threatened the girls! He’s a piece of shit!” she screamed.

“Throw the Glock into the street and walk back into the house, Jamie!” yelled Alex.

“Is he dead?” she said, her voice breaking.

“He’s dead. Time’s up, Jamie. Toss the pistol and get inside.”

Jamie reached behind her back, causing him to tense and press into the SUV’s rear tire. He knew she would have to do this to comply with his demand, but it still made him nervous. Alex just hoped that Charlie didn’t get any panicky ideas.

“You okay over there?” he whispered.

“Yep. Finger’s off the trigger,” said Charlie.

“As soon as she turns around, you head out and get the pistol.”

“Got it.”

Jamie raised the pistol over her head and threw it as far as she could. She stood her ground on the driveway, facing the open garage bay.

“He never found it. Can you believe that? I should have put it up to his head while he was dead drunk and pulled the trigger. He had enough reasons to kill himself.”

“You should have warned me,” said Alex. “We would have helped you.”

“I
did
warn you. Route 26? He was listening to the whole conversation through one of the radios. That was all I could do.”

Alex stepped out of the shadows. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jamie. I just found out about what was going on with you tonight. We didn’t put it together.”

“I got pretty good at hiding it. We’ll be fine now. Completely fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the shotgun back—after you’re gone.”

“We’ll leave it in the garage. Back door will be unlocked—not that you can’t just walk through the sliding door,” he said, causing her to briefly laugh.

“Good luck getting your kids back from Boston. I figured you were splitting up between the bikes and the Jeep,” said Jamie.

“Help yourself to anything you can salvage. There’s a ton of food in our basement if you don’t mind snorkeling. Firearms too. Need to get to those quick, before the bores start to rust. I have a cord of wet firewood in my garage,” he said.

“Thanks, Alex. I’ll take you up on that, and I’ll keep an eye on the houses. Can I take the pistol?”

“Yeah. Clean it really well. There’s a lot of sand mixed into this mess,” said Alex.

“See you around,” she said.

“Good luck, Jamie. Hopefully we’ll see you shortly.”

“Somehow I think this is more of a permanent situation. We’re ready.”

Alex called Ed down to the mudroom, and helped Charlie secure the garage. They locked the bay door in place and barricaded the back door. Ed met them in the garage.

“I’m thinking we should leave right now,” said Ed.

“We can’t ride bikes in the dark,” said Kate, following him.

“The sun will be up in three hours. 5:50. We should at least start rolling out of here at five, before the neighborhood wakes up. By the time we get everyone to Route 1, they should have enough light to travel safely,” said Ed.

Kate nodded and rubbed her eyes.

“All right. We’ll let everyone sleep for another hour and a half, then get out of here. I don’t think she’s a threat, but who knows what she’s capable of with kids to protect?” said Alex.

“Why don’t you and Charlie get some sleep? I’ll take the next shift down here,” said Ed.

Alex handed Ed the muddied shotgun and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all yours, Ed. I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind.”

“Use the bathroom at the top of the stairs, and uh—try not to make a mess,” he joked.

“Funny man for three in the morning,” said Alex.

“More like slap happy.”

“This is just the beginning of our fun. Wait until tomorrow night,” said Alex.

“Can’t wait. Charlie, I got this covered,” said Ed.

“You sure, amigo? I’m kind of amped up right now. I don’t mind holding down the fort,” said Charlie, stepping back into the kitchen.

“All the more reason for you to take a nap. Seriously, we’re all going to need as much rest as possible for tomorrow. Don’t make me wake up Linda to haul your ass upstairs,” said Alex.

***

Kate slipped into the upstairs bathroom after Alex and locked the door. She needed a moment with him alone, and this looked like it might be her last opportunity for a long time. Even when they reunited at the farm, they would be living on top of each other with nine additional people, bringing the total at the 2,200-square-foot contemporary farmhouse to seventeen. Alone time would become a premium, which was important for their relationship. Important on several levels, one of which was Alex’s mental health. The mental and physical rigors of their pandemic experience had worsened his post-traumatic distress symptoms, his nightmares, and had surfaced subtle changes to his behavior.

The changes were barely noticeable, but Alex seemed more prone to bouts of melancholy and a negative outlook. He’d always had the nightmares, pretending to wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, when Kate knew he was changing a sweat-soaked shirt and wiping his face. He hadn’t been the only one pretending. She would lay there breathing slowly, faking a deep sleep, grateful that he’d returned. Her deep, undisturbed sleep had become a joke in their family over the years, but it was a twisted façade. She slept so lightly at night, constantly waking up to Alex’s murmurs and sounds, that she could barely lift herself out of bed in the morning.

She’d kept this a secret from him for years, just like he’d tried to keep the nightmares from her. The onset of depression after the pandemic worried her the most, forcing her to suggest he seek PTSD-related counseling. The treatment had been marginally effective at combating his mood swings, and Kate relied on constant, close observation to guide him through tougher spells of darkness. Prior to the tsunami, Alex had been on one of the longest upward swings she could remember. She suspected that he’d started taking the medication he’d been prescribed, which he’d long been against. The current situation had the potential to send him in the opposite direction, and Kate needed to stay on top of it.

“I don’t think this is the right time,” he said, leaning his rifle against the wall next to the toilet.

“You wish. They ran out of hot water this afternoon. A cold shower with a stinky man isn’t at the top of my romantic encounters list. I just wanted to talk with you in private.”

“And I had been led to believe that I was irresistible under any circumstances,” he joked.

“I’m not sure a shower will do you any good.”

“Sadly, I don’t even notice anymore,” Alex said. “I know why you’re here, by the way.”

“That obvious?”

“I’m fine. Pretty clear-cut situation out there.”

He lit one of the candles on the marble bathroom counter and started to undress.

“It won’t always be that clear cut,” she said.

“Anything standing in the way of getting Ryan and Chloe back is a clear-cut threat. We know exactly what’s going to happen out there. What people are capable of. No second guessing on my end.”

“I know you’ll get them back. Tomorrow morning we’ll be together again. I’ll make a huge pancake breakfast for the entire crew. We’ll swim in the lake, kick back and enjoy the hard work we’ve put into the farm,” she said, barely believing her own words.