Strengthen What Remains (Book 2): A Time To Endure Page 3

  As he reached the far side of the road he saw the soldiers piling their rifles and raising their hands in the air.

  Tears of relief welled in Zach’s eyes.

  Those with him smiled and several patted him on the back, but he knew the truth. Again he had done nothing to help. He had hidden behind a tree crying and never fired a shot.

  I am a coward.

  Chapter Five

  In a fog of despair, Caden helped load the wounded in the back of a deuce and a half and then in an ambulance that arrived on scene. When that was done he carried the body of Captain Turner to the back of a pickup. He stared at the body for a moment. “No, this isn’t right.”

  “What?” Maria asked cautiously.

  “A flag. He needs an American flag.”

  Maria ran off as Caden stared at the body.

  A moment later she returned and handed him the flag he wanted.

  Caden draped it over his fallen friend and tucked it under. When he was done, Maria held his hand and all but led him to the backseat of the cab. There the two sat silently together.

  Turner wasn’t the first friend to die in battle. Every time one of his men fell he questioned his decisions and tactics, but Turner wasn’t one of his men. Caden’s decisions and tactics had been sound and those good decisions cost Turner his life.

  Friend against friend. Brother against brother. This hasn’t happened since the Civil War.

  Leading a convoy of the living and the dead, the driver pulled away from the battlefield at a solemn pace.

  Is that what this is? The first battle of the next civil war? God, I pray that it isn’t.

  They passed a grove of alder trees. So, barren…so dead.

  Maria squeezed his hand.

  How many of our own people were killed or wounded? He would need a report from Brooks as soon as possible. Letters need to be written…families consoled.

  He looked at Maria’s hand, still clutching his, and then to her face. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Why? I wanted to help.”

  As the truck rumbled along the driveway of the Westmore farm, he saw Hoover and Brooks talking on the porch. Along the side of the road a lone young man with red-hair walked with slumped shoulders. Slung across his back was an AR-15 and he carried a hunting rifle. As they passed, Caden realized he had often seen the lad fishing along the highway. Did he fight in the battle? Caden shook his head. So young.

  The driver pulled to a stop. A red-haired girl ran toward the young man, but stopped several feet away. Tears left streaks along her face.

  That young man is in big trouble.

  Caden sighed and turned to Maria. “I’ve got to go. There could be more attacks. Wounded need to be checked on. Men redeployed.”

  Maria nodded. “I’ll help with the wounded.”

  He kissed her and stepped from the cab. Taking a deep breath, he stood tall, assumed a more resolute countenance than he felt. Then he turned and marched toward Hoover and Brooks and the troubles ahead.

  Chapter Six

  The sun was high, but Zach felt little of its warmth as he arrived back at the Westmore farm. The prisoners had been marched away, the wounded taken to the hospital. Zach was surrounded by the living. Many smiled. Some were solemn, but he was numb.

  His sister ran toward him, but stopped abruptly about a yard away. Her eyes were wide and her face streaked with tears. When Vicki spoke her voice was tinged with anger. “I was scared when I couldn’t find you. Even more frightened when I figured out you had gone to the battle.” She paused as tears welled in her eyes. Her voice grew slow and sad. “Each body, every wounded man, I looked them all in the face hoping that each one wasn’t you.” She turned and walked toward home.

  Zach followed. “I’m sorry Sis. I didn’t think. I didn’t mean….”

  She turned and faced him, her voice shrill. “You’re right. You didn’t think.” Tears came in a torrent. She ran ahead.

  The weight of his foolish decisions pressed down on Zach. Going with the men had been a stupid decision. He was nothing more than a scared, moving target on the battlefield, and he had frightened Vicki.

  She was yards away now, walking with anger-inspired speed.

  Seeing Trevor he handed the hunting rifle to him. Trevor gave him a funny look, but Zach hurried after his sister.

  They walked nearly a mile before Zach caught up with her. “I’m really sorry.”

  She wiped her face, and nodded. “What are you going to do with the gun?”

  “The gun?” Zach looked down at the strap across his chest. He had been vaguely aware that the assault rifle was still on his back, but he hadn’t thought about what to do with it. It belonged to the old guy from the pickup, but he was dead. Zach looked back in the direction of the Westmore farm, now hidden by trees, and then to his sister. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you plan to keep it? Mom won’t let you.”

  He shrugged and as they continued to walk he pondered the possibility. Vicki was right, their mother would never agree to keep a firearm in the house. “The world is going crazy and we need to protect ourselves. I’m not going to tell her about the gun.”

  “She’ll see it.”

  “I’ll hide it in the shed.”

  When they crossed the highway, the bodies of the two soldiers were gone. In silence they collected their traps and the fish within. Zach struggled to find a way to carry his share of the load with the rifle on his back. Satisfied he had distributed the weight of the fish and traps evenly, he continued along the stream with Vicki in the lead.

  Climbing the hill toward home, Vicki asked, “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  He held the rifle as if to shoot it and gazed through the scope with a confident air. “It’s easier than the bow.” He purposely avoided answering her question. “Don’t tell Mom I went to the battle. It’ll just make her mad.”

  “Yeah, it would. Dad got killed and now you decide to be a war hero.”

  The word hero brought the fear and panic of hours ago back to mind. He felt his face flush. His eyes drifted toward the ground.

  Vicki shook her head. “I won’t tell her.”

  As they approached the trailer Zach said, “Go on in. I’ll be along in a moment.” He made a wide arc so as to remain hidden by the trees and brush. Stepping out of the woods near the shed he sprinted to the door. Once inside he dropped the traps near the entrance. His bow and quiver hung from the wall near the back and that was where he went next. Moving boxes aside, he leaned the rifle into the corner and re-stacked the cartons around it.

  Carrying only his portion of the daily catch, he walked in the front door of the trailer.

  * * *

  Caden wondered if it was some form of cognitive dissonance. The Battle of Olympia, of which the Hansen skirmish was a small part, was just days passed. Many had died, including his friend Turner. But today, for the first time since the battle, he was smiling. Beside Maria’s bed, he had left a tray with a cup of coffee, a ring, and a note. The band was an old one, his grandmother’s, but it was all he had. When she came down, Maria wore it. “Yes,” she said and kissed him.

  Driving into Hansen, still lost in the glow of the morning memories, Caden noticed the two red-haired teens only as he passed them. They were placing fish traps in the stream near the highway. Impulsively he decided to stop and talk to them. Out of habit he looked in his mirrors, but his was the only car on the road. He considered stopping in the lane, but chose to pull to the shoulder.

  He stepped from the car and waved. The two youths set the traps aside and walked toward the road. In normal times, fish traps were illegal, but these were not normal times and no one seemed interested in bothering people as they attempted to feed themselves.

  Caden walked back along the highway. Remembering the ceremony later in the day, he tried not to get mud on his shoes and uniform as he started down the bank.

  The three met near the bottom.

  The young girl’s eyes seemed fixed on
the military issue holster and pistol on Caden’s hip. The boy followed his sister’s gaze, but quickly locked on Caden’s eyes.

  “My family told me about your help earlier in the week before and during the battle. That you told them about the soldiers that were shot…”

  Zach looked off to the side.

  “…and led them back to where it happened.”

  “Yeah, it was right over there. It feels strange being here now, so near the spot, but we have to eat and this is a good location for the traps.”

  Caden looked at Zach, but the boy averted his eyes. “You’re brave,” he gestured toward the fish traps, “and more resourceful than most.”

  Zach shook his head, but said nothing as his gaze slumped to the ground.

  He sensed that Zach wanted to say more, but the boy remained silent staring at the earth. “Anyway, thank you for your help.” He climbed the bank to his car and drove toward town.

  His first stop that morning was the sheriff’s office. As Caden walked in, Hoover sat on the edge of his desk staring at pages held in his hand. At the edge of his vision, Caden detected movement and turned. Dr. Scott looked up from a collection of papers on a table before her.

  Caden wasn’t sure how long she had been a doctor in the community but, from his perspective, she had always been there, always been a doctor and always had gray hair. However, it was unusual to see the law-abiding doctor in the sheriff’s office so, he asked, “What brings you here?”

  “Pestilence—unfortunately.”

  “What?”

  The doctor sighed and leaned back in her chair. “There’s a new strain of influenza with a high mortality rate spreading in FEMA camps around what is left of L.A. and San Diego.”

  “Southern California is a long way off.” Caden shrugged.

  “Yes, but flu has a habit of spreading.”

  “Is there a shot for this type?”

  She shrugged. “This strain is so new we don’t know how effective the current vaccine will be.” Her eyes drifted to the floor. “I should have tried to get more flu serum, but there are so many meds we need, so many shortages.”

  “As I remember flu hits the young and old really hard.” Caden recalled the last time he’d seen Hoover’s mother in the hospital. He wanted to ask how she was doing, but this didn’t seem like the time.

  “The very old, those with serious medical conditions, the particularly vulnerable, most of them are already dead.”

  Caden glanced at the sheriff. Nope, not a good time to ask about your mother. “What do you think we should do?”

  “That was what we were discussing,” Hoover said. “We can’t block off the town again. Some food and medicine is coming in and the mayor and county commissioners are trying to get the economy up and running again.”

  Scott nodded. “Dr. Winfield went to the Longview camp yesterday….”

  “Who?” Caden asked.

  “Winfield from the camp that was just outside of town on the North Road. He agreed to stay on at our hospital and has been a great help. Anyway he told me that there are over a quarter of a million people in and around the site. They’re doing their best, but it’s a breeding ground for infection. Dysentery and typhoid are constant dangers.”

  Even the best of the camps Caden had seen were to be avoided. In every camp the mixture of decay, body odor and human waste hung heavy in the air like some toxic cologne of the Devil. Disease was always a worry. Caden shuddered involuntarily.

  “We have checkpoints on the roads coming into town,” Caden said. “What if we train the men to look for symptoms? If they show signs they don’t get in.”

  “They could still be carriers without showing signs.” The doctor shrugged. “But, without an effective vaccine for this strain, that may be the best we can do.”

  Hoover nodded and walked over to a large map of the county. “The combination of Guard checkpoints and police patrols keeps the state highway safe from the mountain pass in the east to the freeway in the west. The North Road is clear to Olympia. Our weak area is to the south. That’s what I want to talk to you about.” He looked at Caden. “Farms and homes are being raided south of here.” Hoover pointed to several small towns. “Bandits have put up roadblocks to rob travelers.” He pointed to spots along several highways. “I need your help restoring law and order, and securing the roads.”

  “With the war preparations we’re stretched thin, but I’ll see what we can do,” Caden said.

  Hoover shook his head. “I guess the terrorists won. People are hungry, scared and fighting each other.”

  “They won the first battle, but if the terrorists ultimately defeat us it will be because Durant assumed dictatorial powers and cut a deal with the Chinese.”

  Hoover remained silent.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Caden asked.

  “I was angry the day of the battle. I wanted to stop the soldiers who shot our people. But now I wonder if we can’t find a better way.”

  “If Durant allows the presidential election, removes restrictions on the press, and recognizes the new congress, I’m sure there won’t be a war.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  Caden shrugged. “Then the country will continue to split and the economy collapse.”

  The doctor stood. “You two can talk about politics, I’ve got patients to take care of.”

  Hoover nodded and the doctor turned and departed.

  Hoover returned his attention to Caden. “The economy is collapsing—there’s food in the grocery store around the corner, but have you seen the prices?

  Caden shook his head.

  “It costs over five dollars for a can of corn or green beans. Trucks are moving, commerce should be getting back to normal, but no one trusts the money. Most say it’s worthless and won’t accept it as payment. Inflation is…well, out of control.”

  “My dad never had much faith in paper money. I guess a lot of people agree with him now. We may not be able to change the current situation but, hopefully, most people were prepared for it and can endure until life gets better.”

  “Aren’t you the philosopher.” Hoover grinned.

  Caden smiled. “I’ll let you know if we can get patrols for those communities in the south.” He turned to leave and then stopped. “There was a red-haired teen at the battle with us. His first name is Zach….”

  “Zachary Brennon. Yeah what about him?”

  “No one in my family knew him. I guess I’m just curious. It’s remarkable that one so young would help in such deadly serious actions.”

  “He’s a minor, but not all that young.” Hoover turned to his computer and typed with two fingers. When the file appeared, he nodded. “Sixteen. He’s been arrested four times.”

  “Really?” Caden’s eyes widened. “He didn’t seem like a bad kid.”

  Hoover shrugged as he looked at the file. “Misguided. Dad was killed ten, maybe eleven, years ago.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “I remember some. It was a robbery.” Again, the sheriff typed with his index fingers. He leaned closer to the screen and put on his glasses. “At the time the family owned the convenience store beside the freeway, the one across from the church.”

  Images flashed through Caden’s mind of Henry, the farmer from Oregon, camped in the parking lot and the reunion with his father on the night of the gunfight across the street at the church. “Yeah,” he said, “I know the place.”

  “A three-time loser crackhead entered demanding money. The Dad had a bat, crackhead had a gun.” The sheriff shrugged. “We arrested the perp the next day. He was so high he didn’t even try to run.”

  “So, the boy needs a father figure…some direction?”

  “Maybe. Mom is a drunk.” He looked back at the computer screen. “Zach’s first arrest was when he was nine years old. He shoplifted shoes. Later that year, on Christmas Eve, he was arrested when he tried to shoplift a dollhouse from a toy store on Main Street.” Hoover lau
ghed. “The kid may have more issues than I thought.” His eyes seemed to look far away. “I remember that store. The old guy made the dollhouses, rocking horses, cars and trucks himself—out of wood.” He shook his head. “Nobody does work like that anymore.”

  “Anyway, about Zach, you think he’s just misguided?” Caden shrugged. “Maybe he needs some direction.”

  “I’d advise you to stay away. If you haven’t noticed, the world is falling apart. Like we were talking about, the money is near worthless, the stores are almost empty and I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that we started a civil war last week. I don’t have time to play daddy to a neglected kid.”

  “No, neither do I…but….”

  Chapter Seven

  Caden looked left as he stepped from the sheriff’s office. Up the next street, beyond the county office building, he saw part of the grocery store parking lot. He didn’t often drive that way, but his conversation with Hoover made him want to see what was happening. Glancing at his watch he decided he had time to visit the shop, and set out on foot across the deserted intersection.

  The establishment had started as a local grocery, but it had been sold and remodeled several times over the years. It was now the largest food store in town.

  The last time he drove past the market it had been closed, and the glass broken out. Grocery stores were early targets for looters, even one this close to the sheriff’s office.

  A dozen cars dotted the lot, and most appeared to be makeshift homes. As Caden walked diagonally across, teenagers played soccer in a corner of the nearly empty expanse of asphalt. There’s a park a block away. Why don’t they play there?

  The store had more plywood than glass in the windows and doors. As he approached, he still wasn’t sure the place was open. Tacked to the plywood were signs in bold print, “No checks or credit.” Underneath someone had written, “Cash, gold or silver only.”

  The automatic doors hadn’t budged and Caden was about to walk away when the sound of a motor drew his attention to a security camera above and to his left. He stared into the lens for a moment and then the doors lumbered open.