Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1 (19 page)

On the porch, Eric could hear the rumble of a large diesel engine roaring on the dirt driveway, and it was getting closer. 

He turned to Bill and Imogene.  "You two should go around to the back and hide in the top of the old pack house.  I'll take this rifle and draw them off through the vineyard and down to the woods at the back edge of the farm.  While they're chasing me, you take the rest of them and get out of here, got it?"

"I don't think so, Eric," Bill said, shaking his head.  "I'll keep my revolver, and Mother here can pull the trigger on a shotgun as well as anyone else.  If they don't take the bait, we'll keep them from getting inside as long as we can."

Eric wanted to argue, but he didn't have time.  The sound of the engine was getting closer, and he had to get them away from the house.  Eric threw the strap of the M-4 over his right shoulder and vaulted over the waist-high iron railing around the edge of the porch.  It was a move he'd perfected as a child, running from his brother while they were playing hide and seek.  Eric hit the ground running and sprinted to the edge of the yard.

In front of him was a small cluster of pole-mounted solar panels, forty five of them in total, and the two small power sheds that helped distribute and regulate the power to the house.  Eric ran to the broad, flat sandy parking area at the edge of the four acre vineyard.  He charged the rifle and knelt, ready to start shooting when the time was right.

Just then, a dark olive green Humvee broke through the cut-over, nearly going airborne on the low drainage dike that helped form the border between the yard and the woods.  There was a large .50cal machine gun mounted on a turret on the top of the Humvee, and a man stood behind it.  Eric put the rifle to his eye, and focused on slowing his breathing.  At the rate the Humvee was moving, it would be on top of him in a few seconds, but he had enough time to squeeze off at least three or four shots to get their attention. 

Something didn't seem right, though, as he peered through the red-dot scope.  The man behind the machine gun didn't wear a uniform, and he was waving his arms frantically over his head.  Eric hesitated and stood.  With a gun like that on the truck, Eric's rifle wouldn't even be a nuisance.  They could mow him down before he pulled the trigger more than once, and judging by the bullet scars on the windscreen, one shot wouldn't mean much to them.

The Humvee skidded to a halt thirty feet from Eric, turning slightly sideways as it did.  The driver's side door flew open, and a man leapt out of it before the vehicle had even stopped moving.  Eric felt the M-4 slip from his hands.  He couldn't believe his eyes were seeing what was in front of him, and his breath caught painfully in his throat.  Eric took two steps and found himself suddenly running.

The two crashed together, and Eric felt tears streaming hot down his cheeks as he buried his face in his father's shoulder, and wept.

Ch. 40

Breaking Bread

Eric squeezed the handle on the spray nozzle and watched as clear cold water from the deep well next to the farmhouse slowly filled the five gallon bucket.  As the water rose past the half-way mark, it lifted the green beans inside with it.  When the water and the beans were about two inches from the top, Eric stopped the flow.  He washed the beans by pushing them down into the water and swirling handfuls at the time.  The leaves and stems from the bean bushes rose to the top, and Eric picked them out.  After the beans were washed and clean, he transferred them to an empty bucket.  The dirty water was emptied into the massive ancient azalea bushes that bordered the tall pine trees in the back yard.  Eventually, it would filter down through the sandy soil to the groundwater table, and would likely wind up back in the well before long, recycled and ready for reuse.

Imogene, Christina, Jen, and Meg were all sitting in a rough semi-circle beneath the shade of a massive oak in the back yard, snapping green beans and talking together as if they'd known each other their entire lives.  Tom's children ran and played a game of freeze tag in the vineyard with Nanny's old black lab, Princess, trying desperately to join the game. 

Granddaddy sat on the concrete steps of the back porch bouncing baby Samantha on his knee and laughing as she giggled at him.  He had been smitten with the small child as soon as he saw her.  He bounced her, tickled her, and even pretended to bite off her little toes one at a time while Sam giggled and laughed the entire time. 

It was all so peaceful and perfect that it seemed almost surreal to Eric.  Sheltered in the tight ring of trees that bordered the yard and fields, the family homestead could have been on a different planet from the violence and destruction Eric had seen in and around Charlotte, just a few hours’ drive south and west.  A dense column of black smoke rose to west, however, in the direction of Bennett, the nearest town.  That smoke served as a reminder of reality outside of the farm, and every once in a while the ladies underneath the tree would drift to silence and turn to stare at it.  

In all, the family farm consisted of the main homestead with the house, four barns, an old chicken coop, a vineyard, and a field that made up about sixty acres total.  Another three hundred acres of forests and fields connected to the original homestead provided the income for the farm through corn, soybeans, and tobacco.  The land was situated along Cutler's Run, a river that at times seemed little more than a glorified creek.  Eventually, Cutler's Run fed into the Neuse River and on into the Pamlico Sound.  Eric wondered how difficult it would be to reach the coast following the streams and rivers instead of the paved roads and highways.  Rivers had once served as the main transportation network for the whole of humanity, but that had been literally ages ago. 

Eric was jolted out of his thoughts as his father set down two more buckets of green beans to be washed.  Chris followed behind him with two buckets of plump, red tomatoes.  The two had spent the last few hours carrying buckets of produce up from the "small" garden that Nanny and Granddaddy planted every year in the fields just past the old pack house.  For most families, the garden would have been massive, covering nearly three square acres in all.  They grew sweet corn, tomatoes, beans, peas, turnips, peppers, potatoes, and onions.  Frozen and canned vegetables from the garden fed the family year-round, and any extra produce that they didn't need fed the other families up and down The Run.  Nanny and Granddaddy were famous for calling people to come pick truckloads of vegetables once their own canning and freezing was done for the year. 

"Take care of people when you can," Granddaddy would say, "and they'll take care of you when you can't."

Eric was about to start washing the next bucket of beans, but Joe reached down and stopped him.  "Come with us for a minute, Eric," Joe said.  "We need to talk."

Eric nodded and stood.  He carried the freshly cleaned bucket of beans to the ladies snapping beans under the tree and then followed his father and Chris out to the trucks.  Bill and Tom had the hood of the Bronco up, and they were checking seals and fluid levels, making sure the vehicle was ready to drive if they needed it.  Corporal Henderson was doing the same for the massive Humvee.  They all stopped what they were doing as Joe and the others approached.

"Okay," Joe said softly, despite them being well out of earshot from anyone else, "here's the plan.  There's a list of names that Chris and I took off a guy in Norfolk.  It seems that whoever is running that city now had this list of names and was going around rounding up as many of them as possible.  These weren't police, either, and I didn't see any warrants when they were trying to scare Chris's wife into letting them inside."

"Snatch and grabs," Bill said, shaking his head.  "Cartel guys would do that down in south Texas.  They'd find someone they thought had money, tail 'em for a while, then snatch 'em up and demand a ransom from the family."

"Yeah," Joe said.  "I don't think these guys were after a pay day.  My name is on that list, and so are Tom's and Chris's.  We each know guys that are on that list too, and we left them there, knowing someone was coming for them.  That doesn't sit too well with me, and I mean to do something about it."

Eric shifted uneasily, but didn't say anything.  Joe reached out and put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed.  It was a gesture Eric knew well, and it meant his dad was about to deliver some unpleasant news.

"Tom and I are going back," Joe said after a long moment of silence.  "We're going to see if we can get to any of those guys and get them out of the city, or at the least find out where they're being held.  We've got to do
something
," Joe said, his voice suddenly intense with emotion.  "We
can't
just leave them behind like that."

"Okay," Chris said, "when do we leave?"

Joe just shook his head.  "You aren't coming, Chris."

"Now wait just a damned minute," Chris began, his face turning red.

Joe raised one hand and cut him off.  "We need you here, Chris.  Our families, all of them, are going to need someone that can help them if they get sick or hurt.  Now, I know you say you're not a doctor, but I saw how you handled that little boy's broken arm yesterday.  You're a heck of a lot closer to a doctor than anyone else here, and that means you stay, okay? Please?"

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but after a moment he closed it and left unsaid whatever arguments he had ready.  Finally, Chris nodded, though he didn't look happy about it.

"What about me?" Henderson asked, wiping grease from his hands with a faded old denim rag.  "I'm sure not a doctor.  The only thing I know how to be is a Marine, and there ain't anyone around here to fight."

Joe took a deep breath and replied, "Henderson, this isn't going to be a walk in the park.  We're going into a city that's probably in chaos by now with an objective that will probably piss off some well-armed and highly trained operators.  I'm not going to lie to you, there's a chance we won't make it back."

Henderson nodded.  "No offense, sir," he said hesitantly, "but that's true of pretty much every mission for a Marine."

Joe chuckled.  "Fair enough.  So it's me, Tom, and Henderson, then.  We'll leave late this evening.  Even sticking to the back roads and surface streets, we can be in Suffolk in about ten hours.  That'll put us getting there right around sunrise."

Just then the back door opened and Nanny stepped out on the porch wiping her hands on a flour stained apron.  "You young'uns come on!" she called.  "Dinner's ready!"

"What did Mom have to say about this?" Eric asked as the other men started for the small house.

Joe snorted a short chuckled.  "I'll let you know when I tell her," he replied.

Eric shook his head.  "You know she's gonna flip out, right?"

Joe nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  But you let me worry about that.  Listen, I know you don't really understand this right now, but you will one day."

Eric shook his head and glanced to the west where the column of smoke still rose against the slowly sinking sun.  "No," he said softly, "I understand fine.  I just don't like it is all."

Inside, the house was warm and smelled like good, home-cooked food.  The small kitchen table was packed with serving dishes and pots full to near overflowing.  Two bowls were heaped with pieces of crispy fried chicken, and there were three pans of biscuits.  A six quart pot of green beans sat next to a huge mixing bowl of mashed potatoes and a Pyrex dish of baked yams.  On the four-burner stove was a large cast iron skillet with thick brown gravy and a smaller pot of field peas. 

Granddaddy had finally handed baby Sam back to her mother, and he stood next to Nanny in front of the stove. 

"It ain't fancy," Granddaddy said, addressing the whole group, "but there's plenty of it, so eat up.  If we could all bow our heads, I'll say grace."

Granddaddy reached up and pulled off the faded camouflage hat he'd been wearing and bowed his head.  Around the small kitchen table, heads bowed and hats came off.  When all was quiet again, Granddaddy cleared his throat and said the prayer.

"Lord, we thank you for the food we are about to receive.  We give thanks for this and the many other blessings you have given us, Lord.  We are especially thankful for the safe return of family and for the arrival of new friends.  Lord, we ask your sheltering protection on all those outside these walls as well as those within, as these are troubled times we face.  Lord, we pray for wisdom, understanding, healing, and peace.  But, above all, in this as in all things, we pray Thy will be done.  In your name we pray, Amen."

In the silence that followed the prayer, Eric's mother opened her eyes and leveled a hard glare and a long-nailed finger at his father.

"And if you think for one second," she said, her voice hard and dangerous, "that I'm going to let you go right after I get you back here safe and sound, you got another thing comin, buddy!"

The only sound was the painful groan that came from deep in Joe's throat.

Ch. 41

Unscheduled Maintenance

Terry Price sat at his desk, keying commands into a code editor.  Four thick reference texts were open across his desk, and there was a stack of note cards scattered face down on the printer stand behind him.  He had been keeping odd hours lately and found himself working more and sleeping less as he neared the end of his task.  It seemed that the closer the objective came, the more difficult it was to stop reaching for it long enough to get a few hours of rest. 

There was a sudden knock at his office door, and Terry froze immediately.  He went through a quick mental check of the people it possibly could and probably would be, and then he tapped a quick series of commands into his operating window that saved all open data and temporarily locked and encrypted the entire system.  The command began running immediately and a status bar leapt onto the display, steadily running through a list of files.  His code input system wasn’t like most computers.  It could execute commands with lightning speed.  The small laptop had a staggering 100GB of RAM stacked on four motherboards with BUS networked multi-thread processors and a relatively small 30GB solid-state memory core.