Then Came War (13 page)

It was hard to determine by looking at them where they were from. They appeared to have dark complexions, but it was hard to tell through their battle gear.

Battle gear, she thought.

They’re invading New York City like Normandy Beach.

Abby waited until she saw they all had passed and then she ran out from between the two buildings.

She saw the front door of a townhouse. It was standing wide open and Abby made her way in that direction.

Someone could have been in there, but she didn’t think of that. She needed to hide and stay hidden, at least until the wave of paratroopers had passed her by.

Abby made it up the stairs, paused in the doorway, looked back and ran into the house.

She wasn’t thinking about anything but hiding. Hide and wait it out. She stopped at the first room she came to, the living room. She saw the couch which was angled out from the wall and raced behind it for cover, huddling with her knees brought up close to her chest.

***

“We have to move! Everyone! Move now!” Foster yelled. He didn’t want to yell and knew it wasn’t the smart thing to do, but it was his only choice if he wanted to be heard by those who could barely hear.

He grabbed their hands, joining them to each other in an attempt to create a human train. Jumping in the lead, he grabbed Judith’s hand.

“Jimmy, what’s happening?” she asked.

“We have to hurry. We have to hide or something.” He pulled her and then noticed others were dropping off the chain and not moving with him. Frustrated he grabbed for them.

“Jimmy. Tell me what is happening.”

“Soldiers are everywhere and I don’t know where they came from. I think they are just dropping from the sky. Judith … there are thousands of them and they are all over.”

Judith gasped.

Foster and the group were almost there, almost across the gym. Holding on to Judith, he pushed on the door. “Come on. Open.” He had a dozen maybe more grouped at that door. The rest of the injured were scattered about, aimlessly moving.

“¡Manteno-o!” a male voice called out loud and strong.

Foster turned to look. Six soldiers had entered the building.

“Todo o mundo deixar!” another ordered, waving his rifle.

Then a third stepped forward and grabbed hold of one of the injured.

Foster was in the back behind everyone with Judith. He kept pushing on the door.

The soldier looked at the injured man he had dragged toward him. “El é cego” He stared intently at the man, then looked around. “¿Son to-dos ceros?”

Foster hadn’t a clue what language they spoke, or what they were saying. But by the look on the soldier’s face as he examined the injured man, he guessed it had to do with the blindness. The poor injured man was confused, turning left to right.

Then Foster saw it. Another just shook his head and he raised his rifle. “Mate-los todos.”

The meaning of those foreign words was abundantly clear to Foster when all the soldiers, raised their weapons at the same time and opened fire.

***

Abby felt safe even though her insides trembled out of control. She was behind that couch for a second, trying her hardest not to even breathe. Her eyes skimmed outward to the dining room and that was when she did she saw the little hand.

It wasn’t what she expected to see. Nor was it something she needed or wanted to see. It horrified her beyond belief.

The little hand belonged to the body of a boy no older than two years old. His other hand clutched a Sippy cup as he lay on the hardwood floor by the dining room table.

Abby wanted to scream. What built inside of her was agony and pain overseeing the child. It wanted to erupt from her vocally and it brewed within her gut. Both of her hands cupped over her own mouth to keep it in, She sobbed into her palms as silently as she could.

Tears streaming down her face, she had to get out of there. She had to run. Overcome with the horror of seeing the child, she closed her eyes tightly and jumped when rapid gunfire rang out close to her. Gunfire followed by screams of pain and terror.

Her hands tightened on her mouth as she fought not to cry out. Every part of her body shook. Her feet kicked forward, pushing and scooting her back until her trembling body hit the wall.

She knew what the shots were and she was pretty certain, she knew where they came from.

Whimpering out a whispered ‘Foster,’ she bowed her head to her knees and covered her ears to try to block out the shots and screams.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When they were young, in love and in college, they were pretty carefree. Lana and Ben believed they were going to school just to appease their parents and eventually planned to drop out, live off the land, be artistic people and change the world.

Then student loans and responsibilities kicked in. Lana got pregnant so they married because it was the “right” thing to do, but then she lost the baby at five months.

It devastated them both and zapped them out of their fantasy world. They stayed in reality for a long time, growing bored, working long hours and fighting all the time.

They aged but they remembered those times of biking for days, getting high in the woods and making love under the stars.

It was their past that made them believe they could have a future … alive.

They weren’t able to find backpacks in the beach house, but the general store had them along with the supplies they needed. They also were able to find bikes. Bikes would be a quiet means of transportation and easy to manipulate on and off road so they could stay hidden.

South was out of the question, since that would take them to New Jersey and surely if New York was hit, Jersey probably was, too.

They had to go north.

It was about eighty miles Massachusetts and they hoped that the virus or whatever biological weapon that was used hadn’t hit there.

Ben and Lana used common sense before taking off.

They tried to figure out what had happened.

It was big, and yet neither Ben nor Lana felt the attack wasn’t from a big country. Russia and China had the means to hit them, but no reason. Plus, they would have used nuclear weapons. Then again, nuclear weapons might have been used; they just did not know.

Whoever had done, it had to have been either a small country or at least one that was underestimated. The internet news source was still up and running so that told them a good part of the country was too.

If it was just the east coast that was hit, then New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Washington DC would have been the focal points of attack.

Connecticut and New Hampshire as well as parts of Massachusetts were entry points for invasion and hence the reason for chemical weapons.

Had it been a bigger country that attacked, then Connecticut would probably have been hit like New York. Instead they used biological weapons there.

They blew their explosive loads on the bigger cities.

Hit the United States, hit them big, cause confusion, chaos and while the United States scurried to pick itself up, hit with an invasion.

Hit them when they’re down.

Arriving at those theories, Ben and Lana realized they were smack dab in the middle of the point of entry. The first wave arrived; it would not be long before the second came.

Not that they believed Massachusetts was any better to be, but the small towns on the western side of the state were heavily forested and may have been spared by the grace of nature’s foliage. If not, if they ran into more of the same, they would just keep going,

Their intermediate goal was to get out of Connecticut into Massachusetts and try to find out what was going on.

But their long term goal was to be safe and stay alive. For that, Ben and Lana believed they only had one option and that was to keep heading north, get out of the country and head into Canada.

They didn’t look at it as abandoning their homeland in a time of need; they looked at it as just wanting to live.

***

Harry was too old to walk the twenty miles and smart enough to know that whatever the planes that passed overhead were heading east.

There were probably headed into New York and beyond.

He would have taken Mr. Hines’ horses had he been twenty years younger, but there was no way Harry was riding a horse that far. He had ridden when he was younger, but that was years ago. And Tyler didn’t have a clue about riding horses.

So, on a wing and a prayer, they took the car, staying on the road that followed the river north.

The road was a winding one and occasionally heavily tree lined. That afforded them some protection from anything that could spot them from the air.

Did he think they were a hundred percent safe? No. Actually Harry worried he was being foolish to drive, but he did have a destination in mind, a place he felt might be safe, if he could get there.

Just across the border of Connecticut, beyond the newly constructed housing subdivisions and two miles off highway159, was the town of Agabarn. It wasn’t big; it had probably more drinking establishments than business and most of its residents commuted to their work places.

Harry knew of the town because he knew George Miller. He met George by chance. Harry was with Leo having a cigarette while waiting outside to see Ronald Reagan speak. They got to talking and remained friends, especially after they discovered that their love of Ronald Reagan wasn’t the only thing they had in common.

George was a retired mechanic, but hadn’t always been a mechanic. He had been a fisherman who had loved his job. From sun up until sundown he fished for his living.

He did that until his oldest son drown and, consumed with grief, George swore he never wanted to see the ocean again.

He moved inland and put his other talents to work.

George lived in Agabarn and Harry hoped he was still there, that everything was fine and he’d find his buddy.

The drive wasn’t long or far and Harry inwardly wasn’t hopeful of finding anything different up north, especially since they didn’t see a car or person the whole trip.

Then again, it was only twenty miles.

Tyler was quiet.

Still a bit shaken after the plane experience, he didn’t say very much and his hand seemed to find some sort of security in resting on the Leo present.

Harry thought it was ironic, considering what the gift was.

They made the turn off from RT 159 and were a stone’s throw away from Agabarn. The McDonald’s, the landmark for the turn, was dark and empty.

No cars.

No people.

Harry was losing hope.

He swore he felt his heart hit his stomach when he pulled on the main street of the three block town.

Not that Agabarn was a bustling metropolis, but there were always people out and about. Cars were always parked on the street, especially in front of the grocer. But there were no cars and windows were all blackened and boarded up. It was a ghost town.

Harry pulled over. He needed a minute to get his bearings and think of a plan B. In his mind, the invasion force had swept through Agabarn, boarded up the place and moved on.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler said. “Maybe we should go to your friend’s house.”

Harry shook his head.

“Don’t you know where he lives?”

Harry did, but that wasn’t the reason. He just didn’t think he had it in him to see another dead body ravished by the flu or anything else for that matter. Especially if it was someone he knew.

Again, Harry shook his head. “I’d just rather not.”

Staring down, Harry saw through the corner of his eye that Tyler was gripping the box tighter. He lifted his eyes to see that Tyler’s head hung low as well.

“Hey.” Harry reached for him. “It’ll be okay.”

Thump, thump, thump!

The quick, triple hard hits on the driver’s side window made them both jump and scream.

Harry grabbed his chest and opened the window. “By God, it’s a living person.”

A younger man, probably in his mid-twenties, wearing a baseball cap was frantic. “Mister, ya can’t leave the car in the road. Ya got to move it now.”

“I’m sorry, move it?” Harry asked.

“Unless you’re going. If you’re going, you got to go. If not, you got to move.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Harry whispered out. “What in the hell are you saying?”

“Is you passing through or is you staying?”

“I’m looking for George Miller. Know him.”

“Everybody does.”

“Is he alive?”

“Last I checked.”

Harry grinned and turned to Tyler. “George is alive.” He returned to the young man. “We’re staying.”

“Ah, Gees, okay.” He adjusted his cap, shuffling some. “Head a block up, no gunning the gas, turn at the station into Mort’s storage units. I’ll run up. Meet you there, Ok?”

“Why am I going to Mort’s?”

“Mister, ya got to square away your car. Come on.” The young man darted a half a block, poked his head into the ‘Running Tap’ saloon, backed out and quickly ran in the direction he had told Harry.

Harry followed the dictate and when he arrived at Mort’s the young man stood by an open storage unit waving Harry forward.

Figuring the young guy wanted him to hide his car, Harry pulled forward and into the storage unit. He shut off the car and stepped out.

“Do you have belongings?” the young man asked.

“Yes, we do.”

“Can you hold off until dark to get them?”

“Well we’re just gonna head to George’s house.”

“Not until dark you aren’t. There’s a curfew right now, have to stay off the streets and inside.”

Harry blinked. “Aren’t curfew’s usually for night?”

“Not now, they aren’t.”

Harry nodded. “I understand. Should we just wait it out here?”

“No, you and the boy can come on down to
The Tap
. Lot of people are there, just hanging out, listening to the radio and waiting.”

“
The Tap
?” Harry asked. “Is that a bar? Because he’s a boy, can he go in there?”

“Don’t much matter now, does it,” the young man said.