Desolation

These devices had been intended as the last line of defense, if their opponent broke through their defenses and because they simply didn’t have enough ammo to sustain a prolonged firefight.

“Yep, I’ve been working on this all night. I think it’s ready.” Fred puffed up with pride.

“All right, let’s go through our checklist and ready the weapon then.”

33. Defenses

Wright Ranch, Illinois

Wilber remained quiet, behind the rock wall, listening to the sounds of the invaders. Occasionally he would catch the small crack of a twig, evidence of boots walking their way, or the hushed murmur of two people discussing attack plans below. However, it still wasn’t time; since they were at the top of the hill, the sounds seemed to resonate and amplify on the way to their ears, as if this valley were in a giant parabolic dish. Thankfully the reverse didn’t seem to be true. The invaders apparently couldn’t hear his people’s voices or observe their movements very well. He twisted around and signaled his son up in the windmill on the ridge.

“D O Y O U S E E A N Y T H I N G?” Wilber transmitted Morse code by deflecting the sun’s rays off a little mirror in Buck’s direction. All the years of prepping with his son paid off, in spite of the boy’s constant resistance.

“N O,” then a pause, “M U C H L O N G E R?” Then, “S C A R E D.”

“B E O V E R S O O N”… “L O V E Y O U S O N.” He didn’t want to push it because he didn’t want to bring any more attention to him. Wilber made hand signals to his people: first to O, who was close enough that he could see her hand trembling as she signaled to their new friend, Steve, behind a large tree that had supported generations of tire swings and tree houses, and now would assist with bloodshed and death. Steve acknowledged, but seemed to be unfocused, like he was somewhere else. Probably just nervous. Wilber nodded to himself as Steve spun and immediately signaled to his father on top of the pig shelter. Then Wilber turned the other way and signaled Doc Reynolds. Doc’s was a face of strength, revealing a certainty of purpose, knowing their cause was a just one. Further down the wall was Emma Simpson, a woman of peace, who would be welcoming death soon enough. Her shiny dome, void of all hair from the cancer, was covered in a camo-green bandana Wilber had given her. She thought it made her look tougher than the wispy pink scarves she usually wore to cover her baldness. Her green head nodded, and then she signaled her husband who was out of view from them.

Wilber wasn’t a religious man, but as the saying goes, there are no atheists in foxholes. He bowed his head and said a little prayer to keep his new friends and family safe. Then, he waited and watched for what he knew was coming any moment now.

~~~

Steve was beside himself with indecision. There was no way that could have been Darla. He was surely seeing what he wanted to see. He had been longing for her, especially the last few evenings, certain that he would never see her again. After seeing Wilber’s signal, and then forwarding it to his father, he closed his eyes and focused on exactly what he saw: the woman’s pony tail—that could be like any woman’s; then her smile—that was just his wanting this woman’s smile to be Darla’s; her eyes…

His own flicked open. I’ll be damned, I think it’s really her. He sprang out from behind his cover and started running down the hill. He had to get to her before he lost her again.

~~~

John Parkington was watching intently for any bad guys, although he suspected that some of the “bad guys” were also going to be girls, and some (maybe most) would probably not be that bad. He was pretty sure they were just as freaked as his group was. We are on the moral high ground here. If they had come and asked for a day’s food, he was pretty sure this man who had nursed him back from death would have offered help. Instead, the interlopers were poised to take their lives, over food!

He was amazed how much life had changed for them and everyone else so quickly. They were probably isolated from the worst of it, being on this ranch that had gone off the grid before the world ended. Yet, even for Wilber and his family, the changes were drastic. They couldn’t use the power generated by the tower because the sun was still causing electrical discharges in everything conductive. Wilber had disconnected the cables running to the house after receiving the email warning before the first Event. They didn’t have transportation, or communications, or any of the other things they expected to have.

But they had food and water, two things a lot of people didn’t have, Wilber told them.

John thought about his wife and wondered how she was faring. They had lived separate lives for the most part, being married more to their work than to each other. “She will do just fine,” he said out loud.