Through Many Fires (Strengthen What Remains) Read online

  “You’re pretty logical—for a woman.” He smiled and stepped away.

  She thumped him on the back before he got out of range.

  Minutes later he returned. “The lieutenant wished us a safe journey, but he gave me this.” Caden held out a SIG P228 pistol and two 15-round magazines. Together they buckled the baby into the backseat as best they could and as the convoy pulled out of the parking lot heading south, they headed east.

  The homes along the highway were damaged or burned. None appeared inhabited. As they moved away from the freeway the forest thickened and the homes thinned. About eight miles in, Caden told Maria to turn right onto a smaller road. “This will take us to a bridge that crosses the river. From there we can loop back to the highway behind the roadblock.” Minutes later he said, “Slow down. Stop when you get to that bend up ahead. I’ll be able to see the bridge from the other side of that hill.”

  Caden got out of the car and sprinted into the woods. He crested the nearby knoll and worked his way along until he had a clear view of the crossing. He strained to see as much as possible. Wish I had binoculars.

  Logs were laid out at the far end of the span. Any approaching vehicle would need to slow to a crawl to get through the ‘S’ shaped barricade. Caden saw two men dressed in jeans, hunting jackets and ball caps. One sat in a sandbagged position up the side of the hill while the other stood near the far end of the log road block. Both had rifles. This isn’t set up like a bandit blockade; this is a guard post.

  “Turn around,” he said upon returning to the car. “The bridge is blocked, but there is a logging road nearby I want to try.”

  It took ten minutes to reach the dirt road and another twenty to reach the river crossing. Where once had been a large culvert, there was now a free-flowing waterway.

  Caden sighed.

  “Are there any other ways to get to Hansen?”

  “Yes,” he looked at the fuel gauge, “but we don’t have the gas to try them. Head back to the main highway. I have a hunch.”

  “What’s your idea?”

  “That these aren’t bandit roadblocks, but are really guard posts.”

  “What kind of a hunch is that?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps a crazy one.”

  At the highway Maria turned right. The road sloped down into the river valley where Caden had camped, fished and played as a child. The forest was thick and reached right down to the shore of the lake less than a mile ahead. “Pull off just up there.” He pointed to a wide spot in the pavement. “Wait here while I take a look.”

  She nodded. “Be careful.”

  Again he sprinted into the woods and up a hill. In a few minutes he was in a good position to observe the roadblock on the far end of the half-mile long causeway. Even more so at this distance he wished he had binoculars. But he could see that Henry had been right. Two bulldozers blocked the far end of the road. Again, they appeared to be offset to form an ‘S’ shaped position and he could see three men with rifles. One was clearly watching the road while the others sat near a fire.

  They aren’t hiding. Anyone coming down the road would see them long before they were in effective range. That is a defensive position. I’m sure of it.

  Caden stood and walked down the hill toward the lake. As he stepped on the road he looked back over his shoulder to ensure that Maria couldn’t see what he was about to do. No reason to let her kill me before the bandits have a chance. He continued onto the causeway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Caden was well out on the causeway when it occurred to him that if he did get shot, Maria would almost certainly come running after him. Great plan you came up with Caden. But there was no turning back. One man was visible at the blockade watching him.

  He stepped forward with his arms away from his body.

  Hopefully they can see my uniform. Well…if they are bandits that might make things worse.

  Another step forward.

  Now three men watched him from behind a bulldozer.

  Another step forward.

  A gunshot echoed across the lake.

  Still standing. Nothing hurts. He looked down. No blood visible. All the pieces are still there. Even though he was fine, he suspected Maria was near panic. She would come armed and dangerous. He had to calm things down quickly. “I’m Caden Westmore. My father is Trevor Westmore. We are both from Hansen. He still lives there. I’m here on orders from Governor Monroe. I just want to talk.” Several moments passed. Well, they haven’t shot me—yet.

  One of the men disappeared from view.

  Seconds ticked slowly by. He prayed both that Maria would not come and the men would not shoot.

  He heard a car engine. Maria? No. The sound was from the roadblock. A pickup truck came around one of the bulldozers, then raced down the road toward him.

  Caden took a deep breath, but stood still. As the truck neared he stepped to the shoulder.

  Twenty feet away, the rust and red pickup stopped abruptly. A man with a 270 hunting rifle, stepped cautiously from the passenger side of vehicle. “Is that really you?”

  The voice was familiar. He stared hard at the face. The hair was grayer and the forehead more wrinkled. “Mr. Michaels?”

  The smile broadened. He slung the rifle onto his shoulder and stepped forward. “I haven’t seen you since graduation.” He hugged Caden. “You must have paid attention in my geography class, you made it back home. Last I heard you were in Washington D.C. We thought….”

  “I almost did.”

  A car crept down the hill behind him. It was Maria. “That’s my friend,” he explained to Michaels.

  The teacher pulled a radio from his pocket. “Glenn, it’s Caden. I told you I recognized that voice. Anyway, that’s his car at the far end with a friend in it, so hold your fire.”

  Caden waved Maria forward, and then turned back to Michaels. “So, did you guys really shoot at me?”

  The driver of the pickup said, “No, not at you.”

  Michaels laughed. “Most people turn around when they see the roadblock. Those that don’t, get a shot over their heads.”

  “That scares away most of the looters,” the other man added.

  Caden smiled weakly and decided, at least for now, not to ask what happened to those who didn’t flee.

  Maria drove up. Caden turned as she stepped from the car. Her eyes locked on him, but no hint of emotion escaped her face.

  After introductions Michaels said, “I’ll take the pickup and lead you back to the sheriff’s office.”

  “I’m sure I still know my way around town. I don’t need a tour.”

  “You may have grown up here, but you’ve been gone for years. Many people don’t know you and a lot happened in the last few weeks. The sheriff will want to talk to you, so it’s best that I go along to the office.”

  Caden relented and allowed Michaels to escort him.

  Once back in the car Maria said, “When I heard that gunshot….”

  Caden nodded.

  Her voice grew stern. “You could have been killed.”

  “I had a hunch.”

  With eyes fixed on him she said, “Your hunch could have left you dead on some backwoods road and me in the middle of nowhere with a half-a-tank of gas and a baby. I know we’re not married or anything, but I do….”

  “I care for you too. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

  She wiped her eyes and nodded.

  After passing through the blockade they paused while one man jumped out and Michaels took over driving the pickup.

  A few minutes later, as they passed a narrow two-lane country road, Caden pointed. “That’s the way to the Westmore farm.” His heart went down the narrow road, but he kept the car headed into town. “Hansen is three miles farther down the highway.”

  Moments later as they passed over a culvert where a creek ran under the road, Maria pointed at two red-headed teens, a boy and a girl, fishing along the bank.

  “I’ve fished in that stream many
times,” Caden said. “There, up ahead is the Hansen city limit sign.”

  Maria looked around. Farm fields spread out from either side of the street to the hills in the distance. Ahead there was a motel, gas station and convenience store, but no other buildings. “City? What city?”

  “Hansen isn’t a city in the sense of Atlanta, but it is the county seat and,” he smiled, “it has a number of multi-story buildings.”

  “Where?”

  “Patience is a virtue. We will be downtown in less than five minutes.”

  “Downtown? Five minutes?” she repeated incredulously.

  Caden turned at the corner. Children and adults mingled in the parking lot of the motel, but the gas station and convenience store on his right were closed. Glass is still in the windows and they don’t appear burned. No looting? That’s a good sign. After they passed a line of trees, a school came into view. Children ran about the playground.

  Everything looks normal. He scanned both sides of the street. Homes on the other side of the road were intact and looked lived in. No, something is different. The town looked tired and run down. Piles of garbage bags lined the street in front of nice middle class homes. Some of the trash was carried on the breeze.

  As they continued the houses gave way to squat gray and brown shops, stores and office buildings of two and three stories. Many of the windows were boarded up and, like Olympia, the shops were mostly closed. Caden was grateful that the looting and burning seemed to have followed the freeway and not made its way here.

  As they passed a five-story building he said, “Welcome to downtown Hansen.”

  “Where’s the sheriff’s office?” Maria asked.

  “Just up ahead, across from the court house.” A moment later a large parking lot came into view. Caden had driven there several times before moving away. No cars in the lot and no cars on the road.

  Michaels pulled into the lot.

  Caden followed and parked beside him. Stepping from the car he asked, “Where is everyone?”

  Michaels shrugged. “Most are home. There is nothing in the stores to buy so there’s no work. The grocery store got its last shipment the day of the Seattle explosion. Now the shelves are bare.”

  “I’ll get Adam,” Maria said. “You guys go ahead.”

  As the two walked toward the sheriff’s office Caden said, “So there was panic buying?”

  “Yeah, there was crazy buying from the day of the D.C. blast. Some shops tried to ration supplies, but it didn’t work. Gas, food and medicine were in short supply almost from the start and then quickly disappeared. After the essentials were gone people bought everything else. It was insane.”

  “But there was no looting?”

  “Some. Outsiders mostly, but….”

  He didn’t press for details.

  Stepping through the door Caden saw a young deputy.

  Chair tilted back against the wall he read a book. Looking up, the deputy’s eyes locked on Caden and he popped to attention.

  Michaels stepped forward and said, “Relax Doug, it’s just me and, well, look who we found. This is Caden Westmore.”

  “Trevor’s son? Nice to meet you. Your father did a lot for this community after the D.C. attack. He got the blockade set up and organized the guards.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be hearing all about it soon, but right now we’re here to talk to the sheriff.”

  Maria stepped through the door and Caden introduced her.

  “Just go on in,” the deputy pointed ahead.

  Looking at the metal detector he said, “I have a metal belt buckle.” And a pocket knife.

  “The town has been having brown outs this morning so I’ve left it off. Just go in.”

  After being buzzed through another locked door, they reached a part of the office that he had seen only once before.

  “Sheriff Hoover, this is Caden Westmore.”

  Hoover? Caden groaned inwardly.

  “Caden?” The sheriff turned as he said the name. As their eyes met he said, “A lot of people thought you were dead. I’ll bet your mother was glad to see you.”

  Other than the gray that speckled his short black hair and just a bit more weight, the man before him was that same person he had known as a deputy. “I haven’t seen my mom yet. I came here first.”

  “Well, I guess I should feel honored.” Without moving closer he looked Caden up and down. “I thought you got out of the army.”

  “I’m in the Washington National Guard actually, and I’m here on orders from Governor Monroe.”

  The sheriff’s face grew dark. “Oh. What does he want?”

  “I’m to assume command of the Hansen armory and the governor wants me to act as a liaison to county leaders and local farmers.”

  The sheriff walked across the room and stood before him. “Liaison? Has martial law been declared?”

  Caden recalled Becky’s assertion that the whole nation would soon be under martial law and simply said, “Not yet.”

  Hoover shook his head. “I’ve been here trying to protect these people for weeks while you’ve been who knows where. Now you want to march into Hansen in your army suit and take command.”

  “I don’t want any such thing.”

  “But, if martial law is declared in this county, you will be the senior officer here.”

  “That hasn’t happened yet and I hope it doesn’t. Look, I’m not taking command of anything but the armory. Everything else we can discuss later. Right now I want to get home and see my Mother and Father.”

  “What?” Hoover said in a surprised voice. “Michaels didn’t you tell him?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Michaels looked at his feet. “There never seemed to be a good time to tell him.”

  “What?” Caden asked.

  “There never is a good time.” Hoover sighed. “I don’t know the details, but…your father is missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “He drove up the North Road on the morning of the Seattle blast. He was going to your brother’s place, but he hasn’t come back.”

  “Peter? Sue?” Caden recalled details from the disaster map in the capitol briefing room. He was certain his brother’s home was outside the blast line, but the fire and radiation zones were larger. “The Seattle blast was six days ago.” Once again he tried to remember exactly where his brother lived. “Okay, we’ll talk later.”

  Hoover nodded.

  As they walked from the office Maria said, “Take the baby. I’m driving.”

  Caden looked her in the eye and didn’t argue.

  In the car, several minutes went by in silence as they backtracked their way out of town. Caden shifted in his seat. He glanced at the speedometer, sighed, and tried to will himself home. “Growing up I just wanted to get away. First college, next the military and then a job in D.C. Now all I want to do is get home. There’s Hops Road. Turn.”

  “Okay. I remember.”

  Farm fields and pastures spread out in all directions with just a couple of houses visible.

  “Where’s your family’s home?”

  “You can’t see it from here. Turn there ahead; see that dirt road up on the left.”

  She nodded and for another half mile the SUV bumped and splashed along the rutted road.

  “Just beyond those trees go up the driveway. It’s at the top of a small hill.”

  As she turned, Caden saw the white home he had grown up in. “Drive past the barn, there’s a place to park between the buildings.”

  “It looks nice, like a traditional American farmhouse.”

  “It should look traditional; the original part was built by my grandfather. My father did an addition and it has been remodeled, but much of it is nearly a hundred years old.”

  Even as Maria pulled to a stop, Caden stepped from the car and looked toward the covered porch of the house. From behind him came the unmistakable pump of a shotgun. For the second time that day he slowly spread his arms away from his body.

&nb
sp; Maria stepped from the car and looked toward the barn with a smile. “You must be Lisa.”

  “Who are you and why are you here?”

  His back to his sister, Caden smiled. “Sis, is that anyway to greet your older brother.” Gradually he turned and faced her.

  She squealed and ran toward him, fumbling with the shotgun.

  Boom!

  * * *

  Caden awoke to darkness. What happened? He remembered hearing his sister’s voice and turning to face her. She shot me! His right leg throbbed. He reached down and felt the moist bandage. Slowly he rose and sat on the edge of the bed. Robbers didn’t shoot me, the guys at the blockade didn’t shoot me—Lisa, my own sister, shoots me. He looked at the bloodstained dressing around his lower leg and wiggled his toes. Muscles in his leg hurt, but the toes worked.

  He looked about. On his right was the world map he had put up in high school. Pins and string still traced the route of trips across the globe he had hoped to take when he grew up. Over the years he had visited many far off lands, but now he was glad to be in his old room at home.

  Gingerly he touched the back of his head, the door opened with a squeak.

  Maria smiled and then called over her shoulder. “He’s awake.”

  Before Maria could reach his bedside, Lisa burst in. “I am sooo sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t know who you were and when I realized it was you…. I’m really sorry. I could have killed you.”

  He smiled as he looked up at the sister he had not seen since high school. “I’m really glad you failed.” She was still the wavy-haired brunette he grew up with, but she was now, a grown woman.

  Lisa sat beside him on the bed. “After the D.C. blast we were afraid…. I was really surprised to see you.”

  Maria turned on the light, pulled a chair over, and sat.

  Floor boards creaked in the hallway. He looked toward the door. She had more gray hair than he remembered, but the smile from the woman coming toward him was clearly that of mom. He tried to stand, but the pain told him to sit.

  His mother sat beside him on the bed and they embraced.

  Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, “You being here is a bright spot in all this darkness.”