Facing the Storm

Chapter One

Rural Lewis County Washington, Monday, February 20th

Drake Evans needed to see the men trying to kill him. He crouched behind the chest high stone wall and wiped his eyes trying to clear the dirt. Then he eased himself higher until he barely peeked over the ruins of Fort Fremont’s wall.

Snow swirled and further obstructed his view. His fingers were stiff and clumsy. The one poised on the trigger of his AR-15 felt frozen to it. Panic rose as he struggled to focus his blurry eyes on those lurking in the woods.

The remnants of the long-abandoned cavalry fort provided good cover and firing positions, like the rock wall in front of him. A few yards down the hill, the community had erected a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Together with other walls and fences, they protected him, Ashley, his family, and neighbors from the hungry gangs that prowled the county looking for food.

With his eyes just over the stone wall, Drake peered down the steep slope into the small borough of Riverbank about two miles away. Between him and the nearly empty town lay a vast area of fir trees and snowy fields.

His gut twisted. This was supposed to be a training day, not a life and death gunfight. The security team thought that no one would try to break through the fence on such a cold day. They were wrong. He didn’t know how many people were out there, but they had guns and were determined to get in. Their first shot had ricocheted off the rock wall and flung dirt and stone dust into Drake’s face, temporarily blinding him. As he hurried to flush his eyes with water from his canteen, Shawn, his trainee, cried, “I’ll get help.”

“No,” Drake shouted. “Keep watch.” But when he could see again, Shawn had disappeared and Drake manned the post alone.

Everyone helped in some way to protect the Fremont Hill community. Drake had volunteered to be a sentry, but now anger and dread filled him. Although they were in the same grade, Shawn sometimes acted like a kid. Drake shook his head. They were both kids. Six months ago they had played video games just before the solar storm destroyed so much of technology. Back then girls, games, and school were all they thought about.  

Shawn should have stayed.

Drake shot at one of the gang. The gunfire would bring the cavalry and others. At least that was the plan.

Drake glanced over his shoulder in the direction of distant gunfire. Another attack? Would everyone go there? Should he run and try to get help?

The sound of distant gunfire increased.

Drake pushed into a corner of the wall. Would anyone even hear the shots coming at him? In the last few months he had learned more about survival than in all of his previous fifteen years, but would that be enough? Bile burned as it rose and left a sour taste in his mouth.

A shot zipped past his head.

Drake returned fire and moved to another spot.

He wanted to run, but he wouldn’t … couldn’t. Thoughts of Ashley flashed through his mind. He would protect this part of the fence until others arrived.

Shots pinged around him. He blinked, wiped the lingering water from his eyes, returned fire, and moved again.  Between gunshots he heard footsteps and twigs snap behind him. In near panic he turned. The slope below made climbing difficult, but maybe the gang had made it to the top somewhere nearby and cut through the fence.

He aimed his rifle.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me!” Ashley burst into the clearing with a rifle in one hand, and an ammo can in the other. The two dogs, Gruff and Ginger, trotted beside her.

Ashley slid in beside him like a baseball runner. “Are you okay?”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Fear for her safety raced through him. “What … why are you here?” He returned his aim to the slope.

“Nice to see you too.” She frowned. “I was bringing you breakfast when I heard the gunfire and then spotted Shawn running along the road. He told me that people were shooting and you told him to go for help. Did you really tell him to go?”

Gruff licked Drake’s cheek.

“Stop it!” Drake said to the dog and then shook his head as he gazed along the forest beyond the fence. “I told Shawn to stay with me.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Thought so. I ran back and woke Conner, he should be here soon. And Dan too.”

Relief washed over him at the thought of his older brother and an adult coming. Even if Dan wasn’t a good shot, he would help.

Drake and Shawn had relieved Conner at dawn, giving Drake’s older brother perhaps two hours of sleep. He hoped his brother would get here quick. “Wait.” He frowned. “Conner and Dan … both let you come here? Alone?” 

“I didn’t ask them.”

Drake stared not knowing what to do.

 “Besides, why shouldn’t I be here?” She bristled with each word. “I’m older than you.”

“Only by six months.” He continued to watch the area beyond the fence. “Well … since you’re here. He slapped a new magazine into his rifle and handed the old one to Ashley. “Fill it.” He returned his gaze to the nearby forest.

“You usually say please.”

“What?” He glanced at her.

“You heard me, grumpy.” She frowned as she snapped a bullet into the magazine.

He couldn’t tell her that fear made it difficult to move. That his gut hurt and bile flowed like vomit into his mouth. How could he say that it made him happy to see her, but he wanted to send her away because it terrified him that they both might die here?

A man darted from behind a tree, fired several rounds and raced toward the fence.

He wouldn’t let Ashley die. Drake aimed and fired over and over again.

The man staggered close to the fence and then dropped with a thud. The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. Blood turned the nearby snow red and his green camo black.

Did he kill him? Drake’s gut wrenched even tighter. He needed to watch out for others, so he forced his gaze from the fallen attacker.

Four shooters took cover closer to the fence. Two others barely visible in the forest rushed to new shooting positions on his right and left.

“Thank you,” Drake whispered as he glanced at Ashley’s auburn hair and rosy cheeks.

“Huh?”

“Thank you for filling the magazine.” Drake took it from her. “Thank you for coming here to help and thank you for staying.” Afraid that she might see the tears welling in his eyes he turned away.

She touched his arm. “You’re welcome.”

For several minutes nothing moved in the forest below but the distant thunder of gunfire continued.

“Maybe they’re gone.” Ashley filled another magazine and handed it to Drake.

“Maybe.” He whispered the hope.

As if in answer, three shots slammed into the stone wall. Then more shots as four men rushed from behind trees, up the slope toward the fence.

Gruff growled.

The nearest attackers fired several bursts.

Rock chips dropped on Ashley’s head. She jolted to the side as a frightened yelp escaped her lips.

Drake eased his rifle over the stone wall and fired, but missed.

Between these nearby volleys, the din of gunfire roared in the distance.

After a few more shots, a voice shouted from the woods behind the fort. “Hey Drake it’s me, Conner, don’t shoot. Seattle!”

Hearing the password Drake responded, “Spokane!”

His older brother rushed into view followed by Dan. They ran low along the rock wall to Drake and Ashley.

“There are at least six attackers.” Drake pointed to their positions as his fear lessened.

Conner nodded and then turned to his brother and Ashley. “You guys use any excuse to get alone time.” He grinned.

Drake’s face burned.

Ashley’s cheeks grew brighter.

Gunfire erupted. Conner moved left as he returned fire, while Dan hurried to the right. That left Drake and Ashley defending the middle.

The bullets still terrified Drake, but with others there in support he felt confident that the gang wouldn’t be able to cut the fence and reach the wall.

So, why did they keep trying? Drake couldn’t figure that out.

One of the attackers screamed and clutched his side. Stumbling, he ran deeper into the forest.

Others followed.

Hoping they were all leaving, Drake tried to count them.

Finally, a lone assailant fled into the thick forest.

Drake aimed but didn’t pull the trigger.

No one fired and an eerie quiet descended over the area.

“Why did they run away?” Drake asked.

Ashley peeked over the wall. “They’re gone?”

“Seems so,” Conner said with a nod. After a minute of silence, he said, “I’ll stay here till relief comes.”

“I’ll stay too.” Dan leaned his back against the stones.

Drake wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere would do, but he shook his head. “This is my watch, my post. I’m staying.”

“Well, then I’m staying too.” Ashley crossed her arms. “I can’t let you guys say the girl left.”

“Shawn left,” Drake said.

“He is a girl.” Ashley scowled.

They all laughed.

Together they knelt along the wall, waiting in the snow as they kept watch on the forest and fields below.

 Chapter Two

Rural Lewis County Washington, Monday, February 20th          

Drake stared at the body face down in the snow beyond the fence. He had killed the man, but what choice did he have? The guy would have shot him and Ashley both. Perhaps he was one of the men that killed his father. Perhaps. Then, in part, he had avenged his father’s murder.

Drake scanned along the forest edge trying to be a good sentry … trying to focus on something other than the dead man. The sun peeked through a cloudy sky and seemed to highlight the body and the red snow alongside it. The clouds parted and sunlight glistened, but Drake felt no warmth. His world remained a cold, dead, fog.

A whistle came from the forest beside the fort and two men emerged. Passwords were exchanged. Conner told them about the recent attack and the men spoke of a battle at the north fence.

Within moments, Drake and the others had been properly relieved. Exhaustion swept over him as he walked toward home.

Ashley clasped his hand. “You’re freezing.”

Drake nodded. Cold clawed at his very core.

When they arrived at the house Gruff, their Labrador retriever, barked as Conner unlocked the door.

Ashley led Drake inside and tossed another log into the woodstove.

Stretching his hands over it, Drake tried to warm himself. Out of habit he smiled when Gruff leaned against his leg, but he felt no pleasure.

Conner rested a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “You did well today.”

Yes, he had stood his watch, defended his post, and protected Ashley, but it brought no satisfaction. The cold still held him tight.

He knelt down and for several moments he watched the fire through the glass. Then he lay on the rug. Memories of the murder of his father mixed with images of the dead man from this morning as sleep gradually took him.

* * *

When Gruff curled up beside Drake, Conner considered going to bed. After being relieved at dawn he had slept only a few minutes. Sleep would be good, but he wanted to know more about the fight along the north fence. Then he would rest.

Drake snored.

Conner turned to Ashley. “Can you stay here until he wakes up? I think the gunfight took a lot out of him.”

“Sure.” Then sadness filled Ashley’s face and in a whisper she said, “I saw a body. I think Drake killed someone.”

Conner nodded. He had seen it also. “I’ll make sure someone buries the body before his next watch.” His little brother had been very brave, but at what cost to himself? He had grown up so quickly these last few months, perhaps too quickly. Conner slid his coat on, grabbed his rifle and jogged to the church.

Once inside, he hurried to the fellowship hall which had been turned into the community command center. As he entered, Nancy, the young daughter of one of the community leaders handed him a sheet of paper.

Conner took it more out of politeness than interest. At the top of the handwritten page it read, “Winter Vegetables.” Listed below were Brussels Sprouts, Cabbage, Carrots, Chard, and more. The writer had included an address at the bottom with, “Seeds available.”

“Thanks.” Conner folded it, placed it in a pocket, and continued into the room.

Large windows along both sides allowed in ample light. On one wall they had hung a large laminated map of Riverbank and the surrounding area. Marked on it were all the fences, walls and defensive positions that circled the Fremont Hill community. A woodstove at the far end provided heat and, for a moment, Conner watched the flames through the window of the door.

Exhaustion and warmth swept over Conner. He let go with a loud yawn.

Michael, one of the farmers on the hill, and Max, the beekeeper, sat at an oblong table in the middle of the room. Nancy’s mother Carol, joined the two men at the table and passed them file folders. She had managed a farm supply business before the world collapsed.

The three looked up from their papers as Conner stifled a second yawn. Before the storms the three had been average, middle-class, people. Now they managed the community food program, or as Nancy said, “We handle logistics for the community.” Whatever you called it, they provided food to a growing list of hungry people.

Conner ignored them and strode to Pastor Wayne standing in front of the map. As he neared the Pastor turned and smiled. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Conner shook his head. “Ashley woke me up. Nearly dragged me out of the bed as she shouted that Drake was under fire at Fort Fremont. Then before I could stop her she ran to the fort.”

Wayne grinned. “The girl has spunk.”

Conner nodded. “When I arrived Shawn had already run off, but Drake stayed … and I spotted at least one body in the snow beyond the fence.”

The grin faded from Wayne’s face. “Dan told me. I’ll let the scouts know, but right now they’re patrolling along the north fence.”

“Do you think the two attacks were coordinated?”

“Yes.” Wayne nodded. “From what Dan told me, I think the assault at the fort was a feint.”

“Huh?” Conner shook his head. “You think that was a trick?”

“They were trying to draw everyone north gate area, but it didn’t work.” Wayne rubbed his chin. “What really scares me is, if it were a feint, the gang is trying more sophisticated attacks.”

The stomp of boots caused Conner to turn.

Ben Huntington, commander of the scout unit, led two other men into the room. They removed their fur-lined white hats and coats, as they strode toward the woodstove. Conner followed Pastor Wayne as he joined them.

“We lost two people, Judd and Eric.” Ben slumped into a chair, brushed the last bit of snow from his bunny boots, and removed them. “After the battle, we counted eight bodies outside the north perimeter fence. Blood trails indicate a couple of the wounded got away, but we captured one of them.”

“You captured one of the gang?” Conner asked. That had never happened before.

Ben nodded. “They’re bringing him here.” He removed his ski pants.

Wayne rested a hand on Conner’s shoulder. “He helped defend the fort position this morning. Ben, could you check that area? At least one attacker died there.”

Ben gave a slight nod. “We’ll remove the body.”

Again, Conner turned at the sound of boots smacking the floor. Whitlock, called Sarge, and another scout dragged a man into the fellowship hall. A cut above his right eye dripped blood on the wood floor. His lower right leg had a bloody bandage wrapped around it and his hands were cuffed behind him. Deputy Campbell followed them in with his pistol drawn.

“Sit him down.” Wayne pointed toward the conference table and chairs.

Max and Carol cleared the desk as the two guards thrust the wounded man into a seat at the end of the table.

Everyone gathered around the table except Conner. He held back, watching the prisoner’s face.

Ben sent Sarge and three other scouts to the Fort Fremont area as the interrogation started.  

Pastor Wayne sat beside the prisoner. “What’s your name?”

For several moments the man said nothing. When the word came it was barely more than a whisper. “Gary.”

Ben sat across from Wayne. “Okay Gary, how many people are in your gang?”

He stared at the table in silence.

“When and where are you planning your next assault?” Ben asked.

Gary remained silent.

“Who’s your leader?” Michael stood and pulled a pistol from his holster. “We’ll get what we need from you one way or the other.”

“Nobody shoots the prisoner.” Deputy Campbell gave Michael a hard stare. “At least not until he’s had a trial.”

Conner stepped forward. “Why do you guys keep attacking us?”

Gary looked up. “We’re starving and you have food.”

“We don’t have enough to share.” Conner shook his head. “Soon we’ll be going hungry too.”

 “You guys don’t get it!” Gary’s eyes darted from person to person as he spoke. “I wasn’t some gang felon. I sold insurance before the solar storm. But when the power died I couldn’t feed my family. I joined the Wolf Pack to save my wife and kids. Roark, the boss, controls the whole region except for this hill. You sit up here with food, but for the rest of us below Roark and his lieutenants decide who eats, who lives and who dies. If I hadn’t joined they would have shot me and … I don’t want to think about what would have happened to my family. We’re hungry, but we are … we’re together.”

“We’ll fight to keep the little we have.” Ben shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

Gary dropped his gaze back to the table.

Conner knew the community would fight to protect the little they had, but Gary didn’t seem to be the enemy.

Michael shook his head. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell us something useful let’s get the judge in here, give him a trial, and shoot him, or hang him, whatever we decide to do.”

“What can we charge him with?” Wayne asked.

“Murder,” Deputy Campbell said.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Gary protested.

“Two of our people died,” the deputy replied. “And you were part of the attack.”

Gary shook his head and stared at this feet.

Pastor Wayne turned to Michael. “Would you ask Judge Holmes to come here?” After Michael left, Wayne stood and motioned for Ben to come with him. Conner started to follow, but Wayne shook his head. “Stay with the prisoner.”

Conner felt certain that Deputy Campbell, Max and Carol were more than a match for the wounded and handcuffed Gary, but if the pastor wanted him to stay … well at least the fire made the room warm and comfortable. He meandered across the room and eventually settled in a corner where he dozed until Michael returned with the judge. Pastor Wayne and Ben followed seconds later.

There weren’t enough chairs for Conner to sit at the table so he stood and watched the others decide the man’s fate.    

The trial lasted less than an hour. Pastor Wayne defended Gary. Ben served as prosecutor. It seemed to Conner that they both did a good job, but he never believed they would let Gary go.

“Do you have anything to say before I pronounce sentence,” Judge Holmes asked.

Gary looked at the judge. “I know Roark and his thugs are evil, but what choice is there for guys like me? If I resist I’ll be shot and my family will starve.”

Judge Holmes stared at Gary with a cold face. “I find you guilty of two counts of murder in the second degree and multiple counts of attempted murder and do hereby sentence you to death by firing squad.”