Event Horizon

Chapter 43

EVENT +75:51

^{Limerick, Maine}

Eli Russell stumbled out of the forest with four of Bertelson’s men, nearly collapsing on the dirt road.

Where the fuck is McCulver?

Flames leapt from the charred frame of a two-door sedan, superheating each breath of air he greedily sucked into his suffering lungs. He was at his breaking point and needed something to go right. Searching through the dense black smoke, he spotted the extraction vehicles crossing Old Middle Road. Finally. He took a knee and triggered his radio.

“Liberty Three, this is Actual. We are at the secondary extraction point. What is your location, over?”

A calm, composed voice responded, “Switch to the emergency frequency. Over.”

Eli fumbled with the buttons, his fingers slipping from the sweat that poured from his hands. “Brown, I need you at the extraction point immediately. If the tactical vehicles catch up with us, we’re done.”

“You’re good for now, Eli. No marines in pursuit. One of the Matvees is behind the house. The other is in front. Looks like they’re loading up the casualties.”

“Brown, why are you still there? You were supposed to head north and pick up the thirty-cal.”

“Northern egress wasn’t an option. I’m sticking. I want to know why I lost an entire squad to some guy wearing a Daniel Boone cap.”

“What? Never mind. What’s your E and E plan?”

“I’ll head north in a few hours, tracing Route 5. Radio checks at the top of the hour on channel 18, code 93. How copy, over.”

“Solid copy. Don’t get caught. Actual, out.”

Kevin McCulver’s black, matte-finished Bronco sped past the burning wreckage and skidded to a halt in front of them. A mud-spackled red SUV followed, pulling up several feet to the left. He turned to the survivors and signaled for them to get in the SUV. McCulver leaned across the seat and pushed the door open for Eli, who heaved himself into the seat and slammed the door.

“What the fuck took you so long?”

“What about Brown?” said McCulver, eyeing the road to the compound.

“He’ll be fine,” said Eli.

“Did you see him on the way back?”

“What is it with the twenty goddamn questions? Back up and get us out of here!”

“All right,” said McCulver.

“How about a yes, sir, once in a blue moon?” he said, pounding his right fist into the dashboard.

Without saying a word, his second in command navigated the truck onto Old Middle Road and sped west, with the rest of the convoy falling in behind.

“Are all of the drivers on your radio net?” asked Eli, lifting the handheld radio from the drink holder.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered.

“Don’t be a smart ass, Kevin.”

“Liberty Mobile, this is Liberty Actual. It is imperative that the last vehicle in this convoy watches the road behind them. Report any and all vehicles spotted. I want the last car to respond, over.”

“Liberty Actual, this is Jim Huxitt in the last car. I’m scanning the road with binoculars, over.”

“Roger. Out,” said Eli, leaning into his seat and closing his eyes.

McCulver looked over at Eli briefly. “Is this really all that made it out? Where’s the thirty-cal?”

Eli breathed deeply and exhaled, feeling his heart pound at his chest. “Don’t remind me. Brown’s staying behind to gather intelligence. We’ll pick him up tomorrow, when this settles.”

“Is it going to settle that quickly?”

“What do you mean?” Eli barked.

“We just attacked a high-value military target. No doubt about that now. If any one of our guys were captured, the feds will be at the Parsonsfield site pretty quickly.”

Eli buried his face in his filthy black hands. With a thirty-caliber machine gun and nearly forty heavily armed militiamen assaulting the house, he hadn’t considered the possibility of failure, let alone that some of his men might be captured and tortured for information. Kevin was right.

“When we reach headquarters, have the men pack up everything and hit the road. I want the place evacuated in less than an hour. If those two tactical vehicles show up before we’re gone, they’ll put an end to this show before it starts. I’ll head up 160 with Bertelson’s men and find a suitable location in the Brownfield or Denmark area. Made some deliveries up that way in the past. There are some real isolated places near the New Hampshire border. I’ll pick a spot north of Porter for a temporary rally point. School, campground, whatever. I’ll come get everyone once the new site is secure.”

“I should make a second trip to my house,” said McCulver. “I have some bomb-making gear—old cell phones, wiring, detonators—some pipe bombs in the shed. It’ll save us from scrounging around while we need to keep our heads low.”

“As soon as I return to guide our boys to the new HQ, I’ll cut you loose on that mission. You’ll need to approach your house carefully, and you’ll have to wait at the rally point for someone to contact you via radio, in case the feds follow you back.”

“I don’t think anyone back there knows where I live.”

“Probably not, but they know your name, and I God-guaran-damn-tee Homeland Security has a functioning database that could spit out your last five known addresses in a heartbeat,” said Eli.

“Maybe I should forget about it.”

“No. They’ll hit the Parsonsfield HQ first, then my house in Waterboro, working their way down the list. The biggest risk is running into them on the road. You can’t take the Bronco.”

“What about splitting off from you guys when we hit Cramm Road?”

“Negative. I need you organizing the pack up and withdrawal from Parsonsfield,” said Eli.

“We have enough competent people to pull that off, Eli.”

“I thought we had enough competent people to shoot a thirty-caliber machine gun, but apparently that wasn’t the case! No. I need you personally in charge of this. I can’t be there, and one of us has to be with the troops at all times until we get things back on track. They need leadership right now. Without leadership, they’ll drift away to the four winds.

“I’ll put the guys left over from Bertelson’s squad directly under your charge, along with the guys that were part of Jimmy’s crew. Spread them out and use them to keep the troops in line. I don’t want one of the SUVs to slip out of the convoy with rations and ammunition. Reporting to the rally point isn’t optional.”

“Got it. I still think it’s risky sending me south later in the day.”

“The payoff is worth the risk. This’ll be your last trip to the house for a long time. Make sure your wife knows that,” said Eli.

“She knows. I’m more worried about the kids.”

“You tell them this is like a regular military deployment and that their dad is gonna be a hero, with his name all over the county.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Now I do. After what I saw at that house, there’s no doubt in my mind that York County is about to be invaded.”

Chapter 44

EVENT +75:52

^{Limerick, Maine}

Alex helped the marines load the portable stretcher carrying Ed into the back of the Matvee. Samantha held his hand until she had to let go.

“I should go. I can leave the kids with—”

“I’ll be fine, Sam,” Ed groaned, partially smiling.

“You don’t sound or look like you’ll be fine. Why are you smiling?”

“Morphine,” said one of the marines from the front seat.

“Why didn’t I get any morphine?” Charlie griped from the passenger seat.

“Because one of us needs to stay coherent,” grumbled Linda from the seat next to him.

Corporal Lianez raised his eyebrows and whispered, “You put two Thorntons in the same vehicle with me, sir?”

Samantha started laughing.

“The kids need you here,” said Ed. “I need you to be with the kids. The corporal said I’d be fine.”

“No offense to the corporal, but it’s not like he put you through an MRI,” Samantha snapped.

“None taken, ma’am,” said Corporal Lianez. “Best I can tell, the bullet entered his hip high on the outside, skipped off his pelvic bone and exited through his buttocks. Bleeding is normal, so I don’t think it took a deeper route through. I’ve seen enough bullet and frag wounds to tell. We’ll keep the bleeding to a minimum until we get to the hospital.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Ma’am, there’s no need to apologize. I wouldn’t trust me either.” The corporal winked. “You’re welcome to come, but I’d want my wife to stay with the kids too. Captain, if you’ll close the hatch when they’re ready?”

“Thank you,” Samantha said, hesitating to say any more.

“This is what we do—but you’re welcome,” said Lianez, climbing into the troop compartment.

“Tell the kids I love them and I’ll be back soon,” said Ed.

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

“You ready?” asked Alex.

When Samantha nodded, Alex pulled Samantha to the side of the tactical vehicle. They hadn’t swept the forest for hostiles, and he didn’t want to expose her to the eastern tree line when the door swung shut.

“Be good, my friend. The marines will stay with you at the hospital and push for priority treatment. I can’t imagine they have too many gunshot wounds, so it won’t be a problem. If it is, I’ll have the battalion commander press down on the hospital. Probably see you tomorrow.”

“Watch over the kids for me,” said Ed.

“Like a hawk,” said Alex.

“Like your own.”

Alex nodded. “I think you pulled off number three in there today.”

“Number three?”

“Three times you’ve saved my ass.”

“That didn’t count,” said Ed.

“No?”

“Everyone racked up at least ten ass-savings in there. We’ll keep the tally at two.”

“Fair enough. I still owe you. Keep those two from killing each other,” he said and shut the rear hatch.

Alex opened the left passenger door, figuring he had to say something to the Thorntons. He knew he’d probably regret it.

“Why do I have to go to the hospital? I’m fine,” Charlie insisted. “You need help here, and I can still get around.”

Alex looked at Linda, who shook her head and mumbled, “Idiot.”

“You have a bullet hole in your leg, Charlie,” said Alex.

“So what?”

“Morphine kicked in, Linda?”

“Something kicked in. Feels like a bad ankle sprain,” she said, wincing when she accidentally moved her foot.

“Better than before?”

“You have no idea.”

“Lianez, you should probably figure out a way to suspend her leg.”

“I can do that, sir.”

“Don’t bother. We’re not that far away,” Linda said.

“It’s her call, Lianez,” said Alex.

“It’s always her call,” grumbled Charlie.

Alex met the corporal’s stare through the rear passenger seats. He didn’t look happy.

“We’ll watch over your flock. You did good in there,” said Alex, closing the door before they could respond.

Alex pounded on the hood and gave the driver a thumbs-up before running into the house, keeping himself between the woods and Samantha. Once inside, they found the adults in the kitchen with two of the marines. His mother stood at the basement door with her shotgun.

“Where’s Ryan?” he asked.

“He won’t leave his post until the forest is cleared. Alyssa and Sydney are watching the east.”

“The rest of the kids?”

“In the basement, under lock and key until the farm is safe,” said Amy.

Alex nodded at his mom, who looked all business. “I guess we should take care of that sooner than later. Staff Sergeant?”

“You sure you don’t want to sit this one out, sir? You look like you’re about to fall over,” said Evans.

Alex knew he should take a seat and close his eyes, probably for the next twelve hours, but he couldn’t rest until he felt reasonably confident that their property was secure. Even then, they faced a full day of work just to put the house back into rough working order.

“I’ve looked and felt like that for the better part of seventy-two hours. I’ll survive a few more,” he said.

Tim Fletcher opened one of the pouches attached to his web belt, exposing two fully loaded magazines. “I’m ready when you are,” he said.

“Tim, you’ve had enough. Let the marines handle this,” said Amy.

Tim pulled the brim of his hat down, exposing the faded Eagle, Globe and Anchor symbol on its starched face.

“Never mind,” Amy said.

“Keep a watch in every direction,” said Alex.

“Be careful. Don’t take any chances. Not after this,” she said, glancing around at the mess.

“I’ll be good,” he said and kissed her dusty lips.

“We’ll radio back with our locations. I want to test the motion detectors. Some of the transceivers were knocked onto the floor, but I didn’t see any bullet holes. Wish I could say the same for the monitors.”

“We’ll check the transceivers and put them back in order,” said Kate.

Alex nodded. “One last question. Did any of the toilets survive?”

“The one in the master bedroom,” said Tim.

Alex looked toward the stairs. “I guess I’ll take my chances out there.”

Chapter 45

EVENT+78:26

^{Porter, Maine}

Eli adjusted the Bronco’s passenger-side vents to direct the cool air in his face. Nearly two hours later, he was still running hot from the half-mile dash through the forest in Limerick. He looked up from his GPS receiver and watched for the turnoff to Camp Hiawatha.

“Turn up here at the camp,” said Eli, pointing to a rustic sign on the right side of the road.

His driver eased the SUV off Route 160 and drove them through a worn flagstone entrance. The dirt road gently wove through the dense forest, until they arrived at a two-story post-and-beam structure, which he guessed to be the main activities lodge. The road looped in front of the lodge, designed as a drop-off area for campers. A pickup truck and a small bumper-sticker-covered sedan sat in the back of a shaded dirt parking lot situated across the road from the lodge. Beyond the presence of these two vehicles, the camp appeared deserted, which suited him fine.

“No kids, huh?” he asked.

The driver started to open his mouth, but thought better of it. An even more uncomfortable silence hung in the truck’s cabin. He’d made it clear to Bertelson’s men that if they didn’t have anything useful to say, they shouldn’t say anything at all. They were on probation simply by association with their fuck-up of a dead squad leader. The slightest infraction of discipline or demonstration of incompetence would put them in front of a firing squad. Throughout the trip north, the four men had remained silent, dutifully watching their surroundings. It was amazing what a little leadership and a healthy dose of fear could do for the troops.

“Let me clarify something. If I ask a question, I expect an answer. As long as it’s an answer and not some excuse to run your suck. Now, does anyone know why this place is empty?”

The driver, a serious-looking soldier type wearing thick-rimmed, corrective glasses, glanced at him and nodded. “I think most of these camps break up after the second week of August. The cars might belong to the camp director or something,” he said, slowing the vehicle as they entered the loop.

“I want to see the whole place. That path looks wide enough,” Eli said, pointing to a gravel path flanked by brush and a “no vehicles past this point” sign.

Several seconds on the camp’s central pedestrian thoroughfare yielded tennis courts and a cluster of six cabins nestled into the woods. Shimmering water peeked between the trees behind the bungalows. A few minutes later, they returned to the loop in front of the lodge. He liked what he saw. More than enough structures to house the militia—with room to grow with each batch of recruits. Fresh water on both sides of the camp. The place was located between two sizeable “ponds,” forming a land bridge between them. The idea of a ready-made barracks appealed to him the most, along with the lodge, which gave them a central meeting place. His biggest problem with Camp Hiawatha was its location.

First, it wasn’t set far enough back from Route 160. The area wasn’t exactly a high-population zone, but at the end of the road, near the lake, he could see several houses on the water. Located less than two miles from Porter, Maine, the high volume of vehicle traffic and activity generated by his militia would undoubtedly attract attention. The camp was an obvious choice for investigation if the government caught wind of them. He needed something more remote. Eli really wanted this place to work, but there was no point in forcing a round peg into a square hole, or whatever the stupid saying was.

“Take us back onto 160. North. I have a better idea,” he said.

Less than a minute later, he ordered the driver to turn left on Porterfield Road. GPS indicated that the road forked about a mile and a half away, Porterfield Road continuing north and Norton Hill Road heading east. He liked the idea of heading east toward the New Hampshire border. Eli also knew from experience that the areas east of 160 were mostly empty. He’d be shocked to find more than four or five homesteads on this road. Easy pickings out here, unless they stumbled onto another government safe house. Just the fleeting thought of his failed attack enraged him. The driver’s eyes darted nervously to his balled-up fists.

Eli counted the turnoffs along the hard-packed dirt road, jotting notes into a sweat-stained pocket notebook with a stubby, dull pencil. Five so far, mostly mobile homes or dilapidated saltboxes set close to the road. One dirt driveway extended out of sight, but it was too close to Route 160. They passed a patchy field on the left, which gave Eli hope, but he didn’t see a driveway or a structure. It looked like someone had cleared the land and given up. A few minutes later, they approached a possible intersection.

“Stop at that intersection. Windows down,” he said.

The word “intersection” was a generous description for the accidental convergence of two rural dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. The path heading south looked more like a well-worn ATV trail, which could prove useful for winter movement. No way anyone was getting around southern Maine once the snow started falling. He had a feeling that plowing the roads to facilitate insurgent movement wouldn’t be high on Homeland’s priority list. The road north held promise. Penetrating a thick stand of trees along the road, he caught glimpses of open fields in the distance. Best of all, it wasn’t shown on GPS.

“Let’s recon this road,” he said, pointing north.

A rectangular field flanked the road once they broke through the trees. Measuring roughly two football fields long and one field wide, the grasses had been recently cut. Another tree break separated the field from a vast, open farm, easily stretching three times the length of the first field. Lush fields of late August produce bloomed on each side of the road, planted in organized rows that suggested the use of industrialized farm equipment. A house and barn stood amidst a clump of trees at the top of the road. Rows of corn baked under the sun in fields barely visible beyond the house.

“Jackpot,” he said and removed the York County Sheriff’s badge from a pouch on his tactical vest.

“Go slow when we get to the end of the road. No sense in scaring anyone.”

The road emptied into the farm compound, which gave Eli goose bumps. This was more than a jackpot. It was the grand prize. Easily measuring fifty feet on all sides, a thriving vegetable garden greeted them on the left. The barn dwarfed the generous farmhouse, serving as a backdrop for three neatly parked green tractors. A few other well-maintained structures stood in the shadow of the barn. Chicken coop? The smell of livestock and hay washed through the Bronco’s windows, reminding him of the York County Fair. This was the place.

“Why don’t you stop up here,” said Eli, pinning the badge to the left side of his vest while the car slowed to a stop.

“Keep your weapons out of sight, and do not get out of this vehicle unless I tell you to—or if I’m shot dead. Understand?”

A cacophony of “yes, sirs” reassured him that they got the message. He opened the door and stepped onto the dusty driveway, his sweat glands immediately responding to the direct sunlight. He pulled a black ball cap from the cargo pocket of his mud-crusted pants and pulled it tightly over his head, exposing the words “York County Sheriff.” Unsnapping his hip holster behind the car door, he glanced at the driver.

“If you see something that ain’t right, honk the horn,” he said, shutting the door and walking toward the house.

He got halfway to the covered porch when a man wearing jeans and a dirty white T-shirt appeared on the right side of the house. He cradled a pump action shotgun across his chest, the wood fore-end nestled into the crook of his left elbow, finger in the trigger well. The brim of a faded green John Deere hat shaded his eyes, which never left Eli. Tufts of gray hair poked out of the hat.

“Can I help you, Deputy?”

“Sorry to startle you like this. Deputy Russell. York County Sheriff’s tactical response team,” he said, pointing at his hat.

“A little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?” said the man, glancing from Eli to the SUV.

“We had two families murdered in Cornish yesterday and a report of three men staying at Hiawatha. Oxford County couldn’t spare the manpower. We didn’t find anything at the camp. We’re doing a quick sweep before we call it quits. Getting crazy out there,” said Eli, keeping his hands open at chest height.

“We haven’t seen or heard anything unusual since the morning of the 19^th.”

“Well, sorry to trouble you. Stay safe,” he said.

“Same to you, Deputy,” he said, relaxing his grip and taking his finger out of the trigger well.

Eli’s pistol cleared the holster before the farmer could grip the shotgun in both hands. Not taking any chances, Eli started walking left, firing his .45 Colt Commander with both hands as the farmer tried to bring the shotgun around. The first bullet grazed the man’s left shoulder, slowing his efforts to turn the shotgun on him. The next three bullets missed entirely, forcing Eli to stop and kneel as the barrel swung precariously in his direction. Any further and the buckshot spread might have a chance of hitting him. Quickly forming the sight picture between his match-grade sights, he pressed the trigger, snapping the farmer’s head back. Another trigger press blew out the back of the man’s neck. Eli reloaded as he sprinted to the side of the house.

The temperature dropped several degrees in the shade next to the house, clearing his head a little. He grabbed the shotgun and pointed it at the door located toward the back of the house. A screen door swung open, and Eli discharged the shotgun, punching several holes through the loose screen and knocking a gray-haired woman into the backyard. Eli signaled for the rest of the men to join him, hearing doors open and slam shut as he slowly approached the side door. A revolver lay in the grass a few feet past the door, directly underneath a shiny patch of blood-splattered siding. The air wafting out of the door reminded him of a bakery.

Home sweet home.

Chapter 46

EVENT+78:45

^{Limerick, Maine}

Alex stormed out of the side door to the barn holding a bloodstained map in one hand and his rifle in the other. Staff Sergeant Evans and his two marines sat on the porch steps, drinking out of their CamelBak hoses and eating MREs. They had just finished hauling the last of the militia bodies into the trees behind the barn.

“Staff Sergeant! Have your team mount up. We have a mission.”

“A mission, sir?” said Evans, stepping down from the porch.

The marines behind him started packing up their food.

“Two of the terrorists confirmed the location of the Maine Liberty Militia’s headquarters in Parsonsfield—less than nine miles from here. We’ll roll up with the Matvee and tear the place apart. I want M320s attached to all rifles. Full grenade load-out.”

“The men in the barn, sir?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?” demanded Kate from just inside the screen porch.

“They aren’t going anywhere,” whispered Alex, eyes on Kate as she strode across the porch.

“Sir?” he said, locking eyes with Alex.

“One of them expired from natural causes. The others are a little worse for the wear, but they’ll be fine. I want to be on the road in under a minute.”

“Shit,” muttered Evans, “this isn’t good.”

“I plan to file a full report detailing the entire interrogation—after we get back.”

“Where are you going?” said Kate, standing with her hands on her hips in front of the Matvee.

“I know where their headquarters is located,” he said, waving the folded map. “We have to hit them now and put an end to this.”

“You and three marines? You’re out of your fucking mind,” she said. “No offense, Staff Sergeant.”

“None taken,” Evans said, slowly backing away.

“We’re bringing the Matvee. With the 240 and grenade launchers, we’ll blow the place to pieces. You’re not changing my mind, Kate,” he said, knowing that he was unlikely to get off that easy.

“I’m not doubting that you could level the place, if they let you get close enough.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that this militia group detonated a car bomb at the entrance to our neighborhood. What makes you think they won’t have something bigger ready for you at their secret hideout?”

“Headquarters,” said Alex.

“Whatever. One, they won’t be there, unless we’re dealing with the stupidest militia group ever. Two, they probably left a nice little surprise behind for you. You’re not thinking this through right now, and the staff sergeant knows it,” she said, shooting Evans a nasty look. “You’re running on empty, Alex. No. Actually, you’re running on those stupid STIM things. Look at your hands.”

Alex didn’t have any intention of producing his hands for general examination. He’d fought to keep the trembling hidden since he arrived last night.

“How many P-STIMs have you taken, Captain?”

“See?” Kate said. “He knows.”

“Four in the past thirty-six hours.”

“Jesus,” muttered the staff sergeant.

“It’s the only way I’ve been able to function like this.”

“Is that a lot?” asked Kate.

“They’re recommended for one-time dosage, at night, during extended combat operations. Yes, he has a shit-ton of amphetamine in his system. Frankly, I’d feel more comfortable if the captain had a seat inside and let this filter out of his system.”

“I’ll take a break once this Eli Russell character is dead,” said Alex.

“Who’s Eli Russell?” asked Kate.

“Our prisoners identified him as the leader of this group. I haven’t walked them around to look at the bodies, but I think he escaped. This was only half of their group.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Your family needs you in one piece. You have the vast resources of the Marine Corps and Homeland Security at your disposal; why don’t you let them handle this?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Not really. Call Grady. Maybe he can send a helicopter or a drone to blow the place up. Designate the location as a critical threat.”

“Sounds like a better plan, sir, for now,” said Evans.

“I’ll contact Grady.”

“Thank you,” Kate said, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll go check on the prisoners,” said Evans, slipping away.

“Staff Sergeant?” said Kate, standing next to Alex.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Thank you for moving the bodies. It would have been too much for us right now. We’ll get your men some real food tonight.”

“Not a problem, ma’am, and we’re fine with MREs if it’s too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ll throw some beers in the freezer a little later—if Captain Fletcher doesn’t have a problem with that.”

“As long as I get one, there’s no problem,” said Alex.

“Thanks, ma’am,” Evans said and jogged to the barn.

“Sorry, hon. I just thought I could put an end to this right now. What if they come after us again?”

“I can’t imagine they’ll return with the marines here. Let Grady worry about this. Designate this guy, Eli Russell, as the top threat in southern Maine. It’s not like you’ll be out of the loop on what happens.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Let me call Grady and see if he can scare something up while Russell’s trail is hot.”

Kate nodded. “I want you inside taking a break when you’re done. Mopping and sweeping doesn’t take a lot of energy. We have most of the bigger pieces cleaned up downstairs.”

“What happened to resting?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. We’ll be at this most of the day just to get the house in basic shape. All hands on deck.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said and kissed her on the forehead.

Alex walked toward the garden, looking for a little shade behind the house. He still felt exposed outside of the house, despite walking nearly every square foot of the forest to the north and east of the clearing. The prisoners told him far more than he had conveyed to Kate, and he had no reason to doubt their words. Not after what he did to the scumbag who kept insisting Eli would return to “rape every bitch in that house.” Dying of natural causes involved a long, painful process in front of his scared-shitless comrades. They nearly talked over each other to give Alex information.

The ROTAC indicated a full signal from his resting spot on the slanted metal bulkhead door. He scrolled through the preprogrammed directory and selected “Patriot.” It was the only call sign listed without a follow-on number or letter. Had to be Grady. He pressed “Lock,” which initiated an encrypted protocol connecting his radio to Grady’s. “Connected” flashed on the digital display a few seconds later. He remembered it was “push to talk” technology just as Grady’s voice broke the silence.

“Alex, Evans called as soon as Lianez hit the road. Sounds like you gave it to them good. I’ve arranged for priority treatment of your wounded at Goodall Hospital in Sanford. Is everyone else okay?”

“We have some minor injuries that can be treated here. Thank you. I have a situation that requires immediate attention. Can you spare a full squad right now?”

“Right now?”

“Affirmative. I need additional marines to conduct a raid against the militia headquarters. I interrogated a few of the surviving militia and confirmed the location. It’s less than nine miles from here.”

“Alex, I can’t spare any marines right now. A quarter of the marines I had in Boston are missing or en route. We’re getting ready to evacuate north to the Londonderry Reserve Center.”

“What happened to the rest of the battalion? Where are you now?”

“National Guard Armory in Melrose. As for the missing units, I think we’ve had some desertions. Striker units found an abandoned Matvee in Watertown. At least they zeroed out the crypto in the vehicle radios. Homeland’s Cat Five plan estimated a forty-three percent no-show rate for my battalion in the event of an EMP-related scenario, so we’re actually in good shape, according to the plan.”

“I’ll take one vehicle with half of a squad. The group that hit my house is the same group I ran into on the way out of Maine,” said Alex.

“The group executing civilians at Milton Mills?”

“Affirmative. Somehow they figured out where I live, and it doesn’t sound like they’re going away. This was only half of their group. Trust me when I say they will be big trouble for the Recovery Zone. They planned for the possibility of your marines returning and set off a sizable IED next to one of the Matvees.”

“Evans briefed me about it. High-order detonation car bomb. No damage to the Matvees.”

“They have a bomb maker in the group. He won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I can’t send anything your way, Alex,” said Grady.

“Can you pull some strings and detach some National Guard folks in Maine? They’re standing around in droves at the border crossings.”

“I’ll give it a shot, but I’m not optimistic. FEMA hasn’t officially designated the Regional Recovery Zone yet, so technically, I don’t have any jurisdiction in Maine. I do, however, have a mission, which is why Staff Sergeant Evans was on his way to see you.”

“Hold on, Colonel, let me put my wife on. This sounds like something you might need to clear with her,” said Alex.

“Funny,” uttered Grady. “I do have your signature accepting an emergency commission in the Marine Corps for an indefinite period of time.”

“Sounded like a good idea at the time. What are we talking about?”

“Babysitting duty. The remnants of Bravo Company are headed to the Sanford Regional Airport. ETA two to five days, depending on what I can scare up for transportation. Bravo Company is in bad shape. Thirty-two marines have reported for duty as of this morning, and the company gunny isn’t holding his breath for any more. They’re scattered all over the state. A good number are likely dead from the tsunami.”

“Sounds like they’re in good hands,” said Alex.

“Gunny Deschane is squared away, but without an officer, he’ll have problems cutting through the red tape that’s bound to clog up that airport. With your provisional identification and rank, he should have smooth sailing.”

“None of the officers showed up?”

“Two are confirmed casualties, and the rest live too far north. They may show up eventually, but until then, you’re Bravo Company commander.”

Kate was going to love this. Alex went from sitting on his ass typing reports about militia units—about a day’s worth of work—to leading a marine rifle company, which in his previous experience took up about twenty-five of the twenty-four hours in a standard day, plus time on the weekends. At least it was only thirty-three marines. A typical rifle company could field nearly one hundred forty.

“Sounds easy enough for now, Colonel. Any other good news?”

“Bravo Company has no equipment. The reserve center at the former air station was wiped out by the tsunami. Nothing was salvageable, including weapons and ammunition. I have arranged the delivery of replacement gear for two platoons. Vehicles, comms gear, weapons, everything.”

“Delivery date?”

“TBD, but I anticipate it will leave Hanscomb Air Force Base within three days. I need you to secure hangar space at Sanford Airport. Preferably, enough space for the entire battalion. I need this done ASAP. An Air Force Combat Controller Team is onsite, preparing the field for sustained 24-hour flight operations. Combat engineers from Maine’s 133^rd Engineer Battalion will arrive tomorrow to reinforce the location. It’s about to get busy in your neck of the woods.”

“I can’t leave my family here unprotected. Not until the Maine Liberty Militia has been destroyed. I’ll run back and forth to Sanford. All other business will be conducted over the ROTAC.”

“Why don’t you relocate everyone to the airport? In a few days’ time, it’ll be the safest location in Maine.”

“I’m not moving my family into a hangar to eat MREs, drink funky-tasting water and sleep on cots indefinitely. I plan to call on one of the top militia guys in the county tomorrow morning. I’ll secure hangar space immediately after that.”

“Anything stopping you from doing it this afternoon?”

“Yes. Her name is Kate Fletcher. I believe the two of you have met?”

“Fair enough. Contact me when you’ve secured space at the airport. And Alex? I’m glad to hear everyone pulled through the attack. I’d hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t returned before this morning.”

“Me too. I owe you for the ride back to Maine.”

“It all worked out for a reason. Talk to you tomorrow, Captain Fletcher.”

Alex turned off the phone and lay there for a moment, staring at the deep blue sky. Even with the amphetamines coursing through his body, he could fall asleep in a second if he closed his eyes. Glancing at the gauze holding a 4x4 dressing against his left thigh, he realized he should probably spend some time tending to his injuries. His efforts up until now had mainly consisted of applying some kind of hemostatic dressing or powder to stop the bleeding. He really needed to properly clean and possibly stitch the thigh.

Staff Sergeant Evans emerged from the barn and walked toward Alex. He sat up and planted his brown hiking boots into the grass, preparing for the painful ordeal of standing.

“Natural causes, sir?”

“Metal poisoning.” Alex nodded.

“Lot of that going around,” said Evans.

Chapter 47

EVENT +83:21

^{Limerick, Maine.}

Kate sat down for the first time since the motion sensors had been triggered. Soaked through every layer of her clothing, streams of sweat poured down her cheeks, dropping from her chin onto the table. Alex stepped through the empty slider and set two red plastic cups in front of her. He took the cushioned seat next to her on the porch and squeezed her hand. He looked utterly exhausted, his red face covered by rivulets of perspiration. She closed her eyes.

“I’m willing this into an ice cold beer,” she said.

“Well water. Compliments of the house.”

She drank the cold water in a single gulp and stared through the bullet-riddled porch screen next to her.

“Round one of the cleanup is done. There’s only a one in twenty chance of getting a splinter stuck in your ass—or a piece of glass,” he said, digging into the cushion under him.

He placed a sliver of glass on the table in front of her.

“We’ll get there. Stroke of genius pulling all of the window screens yesterday. Linda’s idea,” she said.

Neither of them spoke for several moments. She felt terrible for her friend. The same .308 that had almost killed Alex and her in the sitting room had effectively destroyed Linda’s ankle. Alex wasn’t too optimistic about her prognosis. Unless she got extremely lucky and the bullet passed cleanly through, the damage likely caused by the steel-jacketed round would require serious orthopedic surgery. Repeated surgeries if she wanted to walk normally on her left leg again.

“They took a beating up there from that .308. We never did find it.”

“Find what?” Kate asked.

“The .308. It wasn’t on any of the guys in front of the garage or in the mudroom. Someone slipped away.”

Kate looked over her shoulder at the eastern tree line. “You don’t think—”

“We scoured the eastern woods,” he said, shaking his head. “No sign of the shooter.”

“They’re gone, honey. They lost twenty-nine men. You don’t come back after that.”

Instead of agreeing with her, he reached out and plucked the porch screen.

“We won’t be able to sit out here at night. Mosquitos will eat us alive.”

She sensed he was holding back. Alex usually played the role of cheerleader.

“We have rolls of screen in the basement. We can pop this stuff out and replace it. Same with the slider. We’ll have to board up one side, but it’ll work,” she said.

“Then there’s the rain. Almost every window in the house is broken, and of course, these are custom windows.”

“We’ll be fine. We can cut enough plywood to cover the windows. We prepared for this possibility. It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to work for now.”

“One rainstorm and all of the insulation will get soaked. We’ll be living in a mold experiment by the end of September. This house was so perfect,” he hissed, crumpling his cup.

Kate had never seen Alex like this and wondered if it had something to do with the amphetamine tablets. His hands looked steadier, but they still shook while he held onto the cup of water. This was something bigger. Something he didn’t want to tell her.

“It’s still perfect,” she said. “The kids are fine. Your parents are fine. We have everything we need to thrive here. It’ll take time, but we’ll eventually patch up every single hole in this house.”

Alex sipped his water and stared at the lake beyond the trees.

“What’s going on?” she said, grasping his hand on the table.

“I don’t think we can stay here,” he said, slowly shifting his gaze to her.

His eyes looked distant, almost vacant, which terrified her.

“Honey, you’re starting to scare me.”

“I just scraped chunks of internal organs off the walls inside our house. The bloodstains will never come out, as far as I can tell. I’ve tried scrubbing with bleach. We’ll have to sand the spots and repaint them,” he said softly.

“Then we’ll sand them tomorrow,” she said, searching for something in his eyes.

They softened for a moment, watering.

“Ryan’s helmet had two rips in the fabric covering, one right above his left eye. Without the helmet… I couldn’t clean that up.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” she said.

His eyes sharpened. “There’s a reason I wanted to take the marines to Parsonsfield this morning,” Alex said carefully. “I don’t think this Eli Russell character will ever leave us alone.”

“We already agreed on a strategy to handle him.”

“I didn’t want to tell you this earlier, because I didn’t want to start a panic, and I didn’t want to leave you alone here with the kids. The attack this morning is connected to Milton Mills. I killed Eli Russell’s brother on that bridge.”

“This Russell guy is in charge of the Maine Liberty Militia?”

He nodded. “I killed his brother, and apparently, you killed his nephew in Waterboro. He’s never going to stop, and worse yet, he’s somehow convinced his whole gang of shitheads that we’re some kind of Homeland Security-sponsored, covert operations team. Part of the government’s false-flag operation. He’s using this story to recruit people for his militia.”

Alex’s revelation changed everything. No wonder he had been reluctant to let the kids out of the basement. It had nothing to do with the blood on the walls or the stifling heat. He didn’t think they were safe here.

“So, what do we do? Pack up as much as we can and go back to Durham Road until the military deals with Russell?”

“If we leave the area, I don’t think this place will be here when we get back. We have one option as I see it. We could move everyone to Sanford Airport—temporarily. I’m supposed to secure hangar space for the rest of the battalion tomorrow, and Grady said we could grab extra space.”

Kate stared at him in complete disbelief. Now he was driving around the state for Grady?

“What are you doing in Sanford?”

“Maine is about to be designated as a Regional Recovery Zone and—”

“Yeah, I get all of that. I thought you were putting together reports for Grady. Now you’re making trips to Sanford? When were you planning on telling me?”

“This is the first chance we’ve had to sit down and talk since this morning. I think we can make this work,” he said.

“I can’t see how. The idea of living in a hangar doesn’t sound appealing. Better than dead, but there has to be another solution.”

“Just until Russell is put out of business. The airport will have tight security, and we’ll have a battalion of marines around us. I can billet a squad here to keep an eye on the place, so it’s here when we come back. Part of a forward operating base or something like that.”

“Why don’t you just make this a forward operating base now, and we stay?”

Alex smiled. “I might be able to sell that to Grady. Russell won’t move his militia’s base of operations south. It’s too risky. He’ll head north, but not too far away. Keeping a full squad or platoon of marines here as a quick-reaction force makes sense. If Grady doesn’t agree, we’re back to square one.”

“Then we reinforce the defenses we already have with Staff Sergeant Evans and his men,” said Kate.

“Our fallback plan can’t include the marines. Grady could yank them out of here tomorrow depending on his needs.”

“I don’t think he’d do that to you.”

“He’s running a marine infantry battalion, not a babysitting service. Judging by the scope of operations planned for southern Maine, Grady’s going to need every marine in the inventory to do his job. We can’t count on any organic support at the house. If he doesn’t buy the forward base idea and pulls the marines out of here, the best we can hope for is a thirty-minute response time for reinforcement—if available.”

“That’s too long,” she said.

“I agree. We need to make a decision on this within the next day or so. Space to house civilians at the airport will vanish quickly once the recovery zone is officially designated.”

“Can we defend this place without the marines?” Kate asked.

She didn’t think so, not with three out of their seven riflemen limited to static positions by their injuries and one out of commission. Charlie, Linda and Ryan could take up their same positions on the second floor, but they’d require assistance to switch windows. Ed’s injuries put him in a different category. They could lay him in the basement to watch over the kids, but that might be the extent of his usefulness in a battle. Putting a rifle in Samantha’s hands didn’t help their overall defensive posture. Asking her for more than a few shotgun blasts in the general direction of the enemy was pushing it.

“With a working thirty-caliber machine gun and seven hundred fifty rounds? It depends on what they throw at us. Same as this morning, I’d say no problem, even with half of our crew injured. If they add a few more .308 rifles to the mix and stick to the trees?” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not so optimistic.”

“The machine gun works?”

“As far as I can tell. Evans plans to test fire it a little later. We also need to fix the gates, or at least harden them to SUV-sized vehicles. If they drive up on us too fast, in large enough numbers, who knows?”

“We’d have some warning, at least,” she said.

“Not until we unscrew the sensor situation. The two damaged transceivers correspond to the eastern approach, which means we have a huge gap in our coverage along Gelder Pond Lane and the gate. We should probably do that before dark.”

“If we have the marines here tonight, we can worry about that tomorrow,” Kate said.

Alex looked relieved by her suggestion, but still hesitant to agree. He nodded slowly and forced a smile, which beat the distant and defeated look he had brought to the table several minutes ago.

“At some point, we’ll have to lay this out for the whole group. Let them weigh into the decision. If I were Charlie and Samantha, I’d be thinking real hard about relocating to their house up near Waterville. If they left, the Walkers wouldn’t be too far behind them,” said Alex.

“Then we better have that meeting sooner than later. If the rest of the group decides to leave, we can’t stay, and I don’t want to miss out on Grady’s airport offer. Not with that psychopath running around.”

“I’ll talk to Grady tomorrow and see what he thinks about establishing a forward base in Limerick. If he goes for it, we don’t have to impose a rushed decision on anyone.”

Kate leaned back in her seat, glancing inside the house. “I’d still like to know where everyone stands.”

Chapter 48

EVENT +86:18

^{Porter, Maine}

Eli Russell sat in a wobbly rocking chair on the wide front porch, admiring the vast vegetable garden past the dirt driveway. He didn’t know the first thing about growing vegetables, but he could worry about that next year. Right now, all he had to do was figure out how to harvest everything and store it for the winter. Too bad the farmer hadn’t been friendlier. Maybe they could have worked something out, where he let them live in exchange for running the farm. No big deal. He’d find another farmer or two to take the deal, no matter how far and wide he had to travel. There was no way he could let this bounty go to waste. They’d need every scrap of it to survive the winter, unless they could put a stop to the Homeland invasion within the next few months.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of the Gelder Pond situation. The tactical vehicles arrived after he ordered a general retreat, so technically, the hostile team inside the house stopped the attack without help. He saw at least two sandbag emplacements on the first floor and had to assume they had created reinforced firing positions at the windows. The gray siding around each window had been riddled with .223-caliber bullet holes. Anyone shooting from one of those windows should have been killed immediately. Instead, he lost twenty-nine men, not including the men lost two days earlier in Milton Mills.

No. There was a whole lot more to these Fletchers than met the eye—and he planned to kill every single one of them. Nobody fucked with Eli Russell like this and got away with it. He’d find a way. One of them liked to drive around in a Jeep and cavort with government forces? Sounded like a perfect target for his initial string of attacks.

“Liberty Actual, this is the Liberty Gate. I have two vehicles requesting permission to enter the compound. One containing McCulver and Brown. The other with the escort team. The road looks clear in both directions.”

He grabbed the handheld radio perched on the wide railing in front of him.

“Did you say Brown? Jeff Brown?”

“Affirmative.”

“Did the escort team search the passengers and vehicles thoroughly at the school?”

“Affirmative. No obvious tracking devices. McCulver’s back seat is packed with electronics, which might be worth a second look.”

“It doesn’t matter at this point. Send them on up.”

“Copy. Sending two vehicles your way.”

Eli thought about it for a second. How the hell could Brown have turned up this quickly? Brown would have put some distance between himself and Gelder Pond, staying hidden until things settled. He couldn’t imagine Brown having moved more than a mile or two from the site of the attack, in either direction—and McCulver had no reason to swing that close to Limerick. After leaving the Ossipee Valley Fairgrounds in Porter, McCulver headed east to Route 25, where he’d logically take Route 117 south and work his way around Limerick to reach his home in Hollis. If their stories didn’t make sense, he was pulling the plug on both of them, along with the farm. He hoped it didn’t come to that. He needed both of them.

A gray Suburban, followed closely by a red, four-door sedan, emerged from the distant tree break and raced toward the house, casting long shadows over the green field. A low dust cloud followed the convoy, illuminated by the deep amber rays of sunlight peeking over the western trees.

“Viper One. I want you visible when these cars stop. Don’t crowd us, but make your presence known.”

“Roger. We’ll keep our distance.”

Eli stepped onto the hard ground with his rifle and signaled for the vehicles to continue on the jeep trail that disappeared behind the house. A minute later, he met them in the grassy, makeshift parking lot next to the jeep trail. Viper One, the four men from Bertelson’s squad, appeared between the house and the barn, staying in the shadow cast by the barn. McCulver stepped onto the jeep trail with Brown, who looked unperturbed by the day’s events. The escort team, consisting of two heavily armed men, walked discreetly toward the barn.

He eyed Brown for signs of distress. The man remained impassive, as always. McCulver looked edgy, but that wasn’t unusual either. Upon first impression, nothing looked out of place. Brown’s AR-10 was slung over his shoulder, and McCulver appeared unarmed. Maybe he was being paranoid.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” he said, extending a hand to Brown. “Glad to see your face, though I’m a little surprised to see it so soon.”

Brown shook his hand firmly. “Lucky day, I suppose.”

“Can’t wait to hear your report,” he said, turning to McCulver. “Did Jeff show up at your doorstep? You sure as shit better not have driven back to Limerick.”

“I finished up at my house around 3:45. Figured I might swing close enough to try the handheld. Brown answered on the first call. Picked him up near the Chesterton Farm just outside of town.”

“So you drove through Limerick.”

“The roads were empty,” said McCulver.

“Damn lucky nobody stopped you.”

He was glad McCulver hadn’t run into any trouble. His explosives expertise was irreplaceable. If they couldn’t hit the government head on, as the Gelder Pond encounter had painfully demonstrated, they’d have to rely on the same kind of tactics proven effective against U.S. forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. Improvised Explosive Devices (IED) and isolated ambushes. Still, he was pissed off that he had taken the risk. Driving that close to Limerick didn’t show good judgment, not to mention the fact that they’d been out joyriding.

“So, where the hell have you two been for three hours?” asked Eli.

“Since I had Brown, I thought we’d visit Southern Maine Drilling and Blasting in Windham.”

“You did not drive into Windham.”

“Eli, there’s nobody on the roads, and SMDB is south of town—for a good reason. Most of that reason is sitting in the back of the Suburban. You’re gonna be really happy about my little side trip,” said McCulver, motioning toward the SUV.

Standing behind the Suburban, Eli had one more moment of doubt as McCulver grabbed the handle to open the hatch. What if they had somehow smuggled commandos onto the ground in the back of the truck? Maybe the men guarding the entrance along Norton Hill Road had made their transmission under gunpoint? His eyes darted to the security team near the house.

“Jesus, Eli. Really?” said McCulver, opening the truck’s gate.

Wood crates filled the spacious cargo compartment, stenciled with chemical names that looked sinister, but meant nothing to Eli.

“I couldn’t believe they left this stuff unguarded. Slurry explosives, perfect for setting off bigger bombs or making concealable explosives. I found other stuff too, like dynamite, blasting caps, det cord, detonators, even a little C4. All just sitting there for the taking.”

Eli grinned, no longer mad at McCulver. He’d been wrong. His second in command had shown excellent initiative.

“This is exactly the kind of stuff we’ll need for the upcoming fight. This may sound like sacrilege, but now I know how the insurgents must have felt in Iraq. They couldn’t beat our troops in a face-to-face battle, so they resorted to IEDs, isolated ambushes and targeted sniper operations. The Taliban did the same thing. We have to come up with a list of materials essential to fighting a guerrilla war and start assembling a stockpile—before Uncle Sam gets smart and shuts down our access. I’d say we have a week, probably less. Same goes for our recruitment efforts. Let’s hit Fryeburg, Bridgton and Naples tomorrow. We only look north of here.”

“We’re more or less strangers in those parts,” said McCulver.

“We’ll just have to get acquainted with the good folks of Oxford and Cumberland counties. If we run into trouble rounding up volunteers, we’ll start grabbing folks. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t mind dipping south for that. We can start spreading rumors that the government is kidnapping people.”

“I’m not sure kidnapping is a good idea. I’d be concerned about loyalty,” said McCulver.

“They’ll come around once they see what we’re trying to accomplish. If not, they can work on the farm. We’ll need a ton of help getting this harvested.”

“Was it abandoned?”

“I served a few eviction notices,” said Eli, patting his holster.

“I’ll need some help getting this stuff offloaded,” McCulver said. “Best place to store it will be in a basement. Everything but the dynamite is highly stable.”

“There’s a gigantic root cellar attached to the barn. North side. Cool as a cucumber in there,” he said, waving his security detail over.

“Perfect. Hate to blow up the house,” McCulver said with his back turned.

Kevin’s statement bothered him. Blowing Eli to pieces in his sleep solved most of the government’s problems. Without his leadership, the men would throw down their weapons at the first sight of a tactical vehicle. He stared at the back of Kevin’s head as his deputy commander started to offload some of the smaller containers. The man had been alone today for the better part of six hours. He’d have to keep an eye on his old friend.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” said Brown, glancing at McCulver’s back.

“Probably not,” said Eli. “Gutsy move staying back. I thought you had lost your fucking mind, frankly. How many did we kill?”

“Zero.”

“Bullshit. We tore that place apart. You said they were loading up one of the Matvees?”

“Two men and a woman were evacuated. I recognized two of them from the windows above the garage. I hit them hard with my .308 at one point.”

“We need more .308s in our arsenal. That goes on the list. You sure we didn’t kill any of them?”

“Unless they buried some folks on the other side of the house, where I couldn’t see. I watched them drag our KIAs into the woods through my scope. All MultiCam uniforms. Nothing else. It took them over an hour.”

Eli’s eye twitched. Twenty-nine killed for three wounded? He couldn’t accept that. A dangerous thought flashed across his synapses and hid in the dark recesses of his mind, waiting to be retrieved. He knew he should turn away from it. Nothing good could come from dragging it into light.

Twenty-nine dead in Limerick, twenty-five dead in Milton Mills. Jimmy. Nathan. These assholes had to pay.

“How many do you think are in the house? How many marines?”

“I counted five different civilians and three marines. One tactical vehicle stationed in the backyard. The other vehicle hadn’t returned by the time I left. Probably stayed with the wounded.”

“How did the marines get past the gates?”

“Busted right through. Those things are built like tanks,” said Brown.

“Tell me about it,” said McCulver, facing the crates in the truck. “We’ll have to build shaped charges to do any damage.”

“So the gates are broken?” said Eli.

Brown nodded, and McCulver turned around with a wary look.

“Eight total?”

“There could have been a few more in the house,” added Brown.

“How are the marines set up?”

“One guy on the 240. The other two helping out around the house.”

“Only one marine in the vehicle?”

“That’s what I saw when I left.”

Eli ran the scenario in his head and started to tremble. He might not have to wait as long as he thought to get his revenge.