Event Horizon (7 page)

“That’s insane,” said Chloe.

“I agree, but I don’t see either side budging. Your dad radioed me about an hour and half ago with news that the marine headquarters had been attacked. The marines put an end to all northbound bridge traffic after they discovered a large weapons cache hidden among a group of refugees. They see the Liberty Boys as some kind of criminal insurgency. I need to call your dad,” said Alex, opening one of the pouches on his vest. “He can’t respond, but he’ll be listening.”

Alex detached the earpiece from the radio and increased the volume, filling the room with static.

“Durham Three-Two, this is Durham Three-Zero. Press the transmit button the preset number of times when you are ready to receive the broadcast.”

The static clicked three times, and Alex nodded.

“Durham Three-Zero has arrived at the second rendezvous location. Both VIPs located. Stand by for separate transmission,” he said, handing the radio to Chloe.

“Do I have to talk like that?”

“No. Just keep it short, and don’t give away any information. Someone might be listening,” said Alex.

“Daddy, it’s me. We’re both fine. I love you. We’ll be together soon,” she said and handed the radio back.

“VIPs are in good condition and capable of travel. Will advise when ready to move. Durham Three-Zero, out,” he said and sat the radio on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. Fletcher,” Chloe said, breaking into a muted, controlled sob. “Thank you for coming to get us.”

Ryan got up to comfort her.

“I’m just one part of the dream team. If you saw all of us at one time, you might consider taking your chances alone with the young master Fletcher,” he said, feigning a British accent.

“Good lord,” said Ryan, shaking his head. “When do you think we’ll leave?”

“I don’t know. I figure the Liberty Boys will make their big move on Cambridge tonight. We need to be across the river and out of Boston before the festivities begin. If we leave an hour before dusk, we should be able to reach either the Arsenal Street Bridge or North Beacon Street Bridge by nightfall. I have signal flares that will keep the marines from shooting us when we cross. We can swim if the militia has the entrances to the bridges locked down. I’m tempted to make a run for it right now, but…” said Alex, shaking his head.

“It’ll be light soon,” said Chloe.

“Too soon. And they’re actively looking for me. We could consider leaving earlier, but it’ll mean leaving most of my gear behind. We’d have to look and play the role of beleaguered travelers heading north. Make up some story about getting stranded during a camping trip somewhere in Rhode Island. I don’t know. I’m too tired to think about it,” Alex said, barely aware that he had mumbled his last sentence with his eyes closed.

His last conscious thought of the morning revolved around Ed Walker. Chloe’s dad was probably handcuffed to a dormitory bed somewhere in Harvard Yard. The pre-established code had been six clicks, not three.

PART II

“Homefront”

Chapter 7

EVENT +49:20

Limerick, Maine

Kate refilled her coffee mug from the stainless-steel percolator on the stove and joined the adults at a rough-hewn farmer’s table on the screened porch. The moist, early morning breeze felt chilly compared to the house, which had managed to retain much of the previous day’s late afternoon heat long into the night. It still felt swampy, which wasn’t a good sign for the rest of the day. Temperatures inland tended to run ten degrees hotter than the coastline, creating saunalike conditions remedied by a swim in the lake or air-conditioning—neither of which was an option today. They had too much work ahead of them.

She’d woken two hours earlier and strolled the perimeter of the 2.5-acre clearing with a thermos of coffee and her rifle. Stopping every fifty feet to listen for anything out of place, she walked the inner grounds until she spotted a light on the second floor of the main house an hour into her patrol. Returning to refresh her coffee supply, she found Linda Thornton filling a second thermos, rifle slung over her back. Having Linda at the compound made a big difference. They spent the next hour forming a basic strategy to protect the compound from the inevitable shit storm headed their way.

If the kid hadn’t been lying about his association with local militia, they faced a serious threat. Alex’s research into militia groups had been frightening, and she didn’t share some of his more optimistic conclusions about their overall intentions. Heavily armed and highly organized, they were everywhere. If anyone in Limerick recognized her face or Emily’s when they drove through town, the militia would find them. Being “from away” drew attention in rural Maine, and their land purchase from the Gelders hadn’t exactly endeared them with the locals.

She placed her hands around the steaming cup and started the meeting.

“Linda and I came up with a rough plan to get the most important work done by the end of the day. We’ll divide into three groups— security, IT and general prep. Samantha and Tim will head up the IT group, with Abby, Emily and Ethan to help. Your first task will be to figure out how to hook up the outer perimeter surveillance gear. Motion detectors, remote cameras, thermal detection stuff. Alex has a bunch of diagrams in a logbook down there. Once you figure out how to hook it up, the security group will install it, along with the trip flares. It’s a massive perimeter, but Alex put a lot of thought into this.”

“You think?” Linda laughed, eliciting a chuckle from Samantha.

“I know, but here we are. Once the IT group finishes making sense of the surveillance gear, the next task will be to restore power to the gate,” said Kate.

“That’s just a flip of a switch. Puts the camera, intercom, gate motor and the keypad back into business—on battery power,” said Tim, raising an eyebrow.

“No worries,” Kate said. “Getting the backup solar array up and running will be your third job. If we run minimal equipment, the backup array should replenish the batteries at a fast enough rate to keep us in business.”

“I’ll need some young athletes to climb into the barn loft to connect the solar panel coupling. There’s a junction controller that looks like an electrical box and a plastic conduit tube running through the loft floor and down into the ground. I think you’re supposed to run wire down the tube and attach it to the house. Nothing is connected. That’s about the extent of my knowledge. Alex has a diagram.”

“We’ll put the kids to work figuring out the setup,” said Samantha Walker. “You said he had spare inverters and stuff like that? It sounds like we have to recreate the control element. Shouldn’t be too difficult if the system is like the one we have at home.”

“The basic concept is the same,” Kate said. “I hope.”

“Alex stored everything in giant plastic bins and labeled them,” said Tim.

“And everyone thinks Charlie is nuts?” Linda winked.

“Where the hell are they?” Samantha sighed.

“They’re fine,” said Amy Fletcher. “I can feel it.”

“They should have been back by now.”

“It’s still early,” Kate said confidently. “They didn’t plan to enter the city until dark. If Chloe and Ryan are holed up near Boston College, they’re looking at a fifteen-mile round trip on foot. That could take all night, especially if the city is hostile.”

Samantha shook her head and exhaled. Kate looked around the table. Despite a full night of sleep, they looked even more exhausted today.

“Waterboro was hostile,” muttered Samantha.

“Then it’s going to take a while. Alex is cautious,” Kate said. “Right now we need to get this place up and running. Once we get the solar panels feeding the batteries, we’ll activate the perimeter security system.”

“What about the other group?” asked Tim. “I suppose I’m in charge of that crew?”

“In title only,” said his wife.

“Funny how we all have that same arrangement with our husbands,” said Linda. “As long as they feel like they’re in charge, they stay out of trouble.”

Everyone but Tim laughed. The joke even managed to drag Kate momentarily out of her funk.

“Amy’s group,” said Kate, twisting her head toward Tim, “will do two things. First priority is camouflage. We have to make this place look like it’s only housing Mom and Pops Fletcher, plus their grandchildren. The downstairs needs to be cleared of any evidence suggesting otherwise. The garage windows need to be covered from the inside. Nailed shut with ply board. The door to the backyard from the garage should be locked and somehow reinforced so it can’t be kicked in. We can’t have anyone snooping around and making a casual discovery. Can the big doors be jimmied open?”

“I tried last night,” said Tim. “They feel solid, but I have no idea what might happen if someone really put some effort into lifting one of them.”

“It should hold. Charlie was worried about the same thing at home,” Linda said. “He nearly broke the damn door, but it held.”

“Okay. This is going to sound weird, but are your daughters familiar enough with firearms to load magazines and match them up with Alex’s weapons?”

“Alyssa and Sydney have been shooting and cleaning all of Charlie’s firearms for longer than I care to admit. They can figure it out.”

“Perfect. I know he has two more ARs in the basement. One is a .223, the other is a .308. There are a few pistols and shotguns. I think everyone should be armed. Alex has a Ruger 22, which might suit you or your son,” said Kate, nodding at Samantha.

“Danny can handle the .22. I’ll take one of the shotguns,” said Samantha.

“Linda, can you tell your daughters to load the shotguns with—”

“Number one buck?” said Linda. “Way ahead of you.”

Samantha shrugged.

“Number one is easier on your shoulders and still has the penetrating power that makes Alex happy. That’s all I know,” said Kate. “Once the firearm situation is sorted and the house is secure, the kids on the general prep team will join us on the perimeter, installing the surveillance gear. I’d like to have everything up and running by sunset.”

“Sandbags?” suggested Linda.

“I think it’s worth looking into, but only if we have spare bodies.”

“Sandbags?” said Samantha doubtfully.

“Is that really necessary?” asked Amy Fletcher, looking to her husband for support.

“I thought Alex was kidding,” admitted Tim.

Kate nodded. “I did too, but it doesn’t sound so crazy now. Not if we have a price on our heads.”

“How many sandbags are we talking?” asked Samantha.

“I’d have to look at the logbook tossed in with the empty bags, but I remember him saying something about a thousand, maybe more,” said Kate.

Samantha frowned. “What is he planning to do, line the outside of the house with sandbags?”

“No. Unfortunately, he planned to drag all of that crap inside the house,” said Amy. “I thought he was joking about the sandbags! We’ll have dirt floors!”

“Inside?” asked Samantha. “This is extreme, even for me.”

“Alex came up with a plan to create firing positions around the house, in front of enough windows to cover a full 360 degrees. Each ‘position,’” Kate stated, using air quotes, “is three feet wide and two feet thick, with another foot coming back from the wall to give you some wraparound protection. You place a three-by-three piece of sheet metal against the wall under the window, then build the barrier.”

“He has sheet metal in the basement?”

Kate nodded slowly. “He has sheet metal in the basement. Pre-cut.”

“I thought those rifles could shoot through cars,” said Samantha.

“According to Alex, a bullet from an AR will lose enough momentum passing through sheet metal to burrow harmlessly into the dirt. He planned to build two or three larger safe boxes within the house, with sandbag walls on four sides. If you can’t get to one of the firing positions or hostiles break into the house, you throw yourself over the three-foot wall into the safe box and figure out your next move. With hostile militia in the picture, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to start filling sandbags once we finish the higher priority chores.”

“I’m sold,” said Samantha. “I think we should work on the safe boxes first, then key positions around the house. Once we get the surveillance system sorted out and the power running, I’ll put the crew to work filling sandbags.”

“What do you think about taking the screens out of the windows?” Linda asked. “For shooting and looking through binoculars.”

“Maybe just the firing positions?” Samantha suggested.

“If we do one, we have to do them all,” Tim countered, “otherwise they’ll be able to map out our gun positions.”

“We’ll give that to Amy’s group,” stated Kate. “Prioritized ahead of the sandbags. Now the hard part…”

“The hard part?” said everyone in near unison.

“Waking seven exhausted teenagers at 6:30 in the morning and convincing them to work for the rest of the day.”

“No convincing necessary. They work or they don’t get fed. Right?” Linda said with a smirk.

“Sounds good to me,” said Alex’s mom. “I’ll fix up pancakes and bacon. Fill them up with a good meal before we break the bad news. Slackers eat cold oatmeal moving forward.”

“Hard core! I like it,” said Samantha. “Need any help in the kitchen?”

“I’ll take all the help I can get. The quicker we whip this up the better,” said Amy.

“I can crisp bacon perfectly—on the grill. Meat handling is my specialty,” said Linda.

Samantha spit her coffee onto the table, immediately swiping her napkin.

“That’s not something you want to advertise too loudly,” said Kate, stifling a laugh.

“Good heavens,” mumbled Amy, blushing.

“This is why I pretend to be deaf around women,” said Tim. “The bacon’s in the basement freezer.”

Chapter 8

EVENT +52:01

Limerick, Maine

Eli Russell marched up the steps of the two-story red brick building and stopped at the entrance door held open by his deputy commander.

“The building is secure. We have one hundred and forty-three residents packed into the recreation hall. Standing room only,” said Kevin McCulver.