Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (11 page)

“Yes, please be careful. I know it’s more dangerous out there than you’re saying, so be careful and come back to me in one piece. I can’t do this alone.”

“You don’t want to wash the dishes alone?” John teased.

Jenna popped him on the arm. “Yeah, I’m afraid I’ll get dish-pan hands. John, you can be insufferable at times.”

“I know, but you love me anyway,” said John, as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight. “We’ll be OK, I promise. I know it’s not a guarantee for you, but I need you to trust me. Trust me that I can take care of myself . . . that I’ll be careful and that I can take care of us. I know we’ll get through this, Jenna. I really do.”

John set up the radios and talked Jenna through operating procedures and call-signs. Adam was very comfortable with two-way radio communications because he used them with John when they hunted, so John wasn’t overly concerned about Jenna’s lack of experience. Besides, they were simple push-to-talk radios. But because they relied on common open frequencies, they could run into other radio traffic and need to jump to a different channel, which would require Adam’s help. Channel hopping required a familiarity with radios that Jenna didn’t possess, so he was glad Adam would be close by her side.

John approached Corbin to ask if he was ready to go, and Corbin seemed to shrink before him. Jenna noticed his reaction and approached Corbin from the other side. “Are you OK, Corbin?” she asked in a soothing voice. Corbin said nothing, and sunk down to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his head in his arms. John and Jenna exchanged glances. John shrugged and silently mouthed, “What’s going on?” It was Jenna’s turn to shrug. She knelt beside Corbin and, with an arm around his shoulders asked, “Corbin, what’s the matter, sweetheart?”

John could tell Corbin was crying because his shoulders heaved lightly under Jenna’s loose embrace. John was beginning to believe Corbin’s home situation was much more serious than he first suspected. John got Jenna’s attention and motioned for her to follow him
into the other room once again. Jenna patted Corbin’s shoulder and got up to follow John into the living room.

“What do you think’s going on?” asked Jenna. She knew John well enough to know he figured something out.

John was silent for a moment, interpreting the data and feelings he received from his limited contact with Corbin. “Big trouble,” is all John offered in response.

“What kind of big trouble?” Jenna asked, as she furrowed her brow.

“The kind of trouble that scares the life out of a young man and makes him collapse to the floor in a crying heap when he’s told to go home.” said John. Jenna was about to ask a follow-up question when John unintentionally cut her off, “I’ll go to his house by myself and check it out. See what’s going on over there. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“Are you sure?” asked Jenna. “We could just let him stay here tonight and deal with it in the morning.”

“I thought about that, too, but that only works if his parents aren’t home yet. But if they’re home and injured . . . they may need our help,” replied John.

“You don’t think Corbin did something to them, do you?”

“I don’t think so, but I won’t know until I check it out. But there’s something about his behavior that doesn’t add up,” replied John. “I’ve got to go check it out, Jenna.”

John knew Jenna saw the all too familiar Boy Scout look in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it. He felt the call; that something wasn’t right and needed his attention. Jenna knew John well enough to know that he wouldn’t rest until he resolved the issue of Corbin’s parents, so she nodded and said, “You’re right. But can’t you drive?”

“I thought about that,” said John. “I don’t want to chance damaging the truck in the ash. There’s so much in the air that I think it might clog up the air filter, or damage the engine. Besides, it’s not far. I’d rather just walk.” John studied Jenna’s face and tried to gauge her resolve. She looked as strong as ever and it made John smile. “I love
you. Everything will be OK. I’ll be careful, and I’ll be back,” he finished, and hugged her fiercely.

“I can see I’m going to have to get used to you being out in the ash, in the destruction,” she added, as she spoke quietly to the side of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you actually liked being out there.”

“Well, I admit I like being outside more than inside, but it’s not fun in the ash. It’s a very hostile environment. I’m only going out because I have to. But soon everyone will be able to go outside again. The sky won’t stay dark forever. The same with the ash . . . it won’t be around forever.”

Jenna lifted her head. “I had better go check on our guest,” she said, “and our two as well. It’s too quiet in there.” She broke contact with John and returned to the kitchen.

“Adam, come help me suit up,” said John. Adam jumped up and met John at the clean room. He held the plastic curtain open for his dad, and then followed him into the plastic covered space. John discussed his plans with Adam as he suited up, “I’m going over to Corbin’s house. I need to check things out,” he said, and held up a hand before Adam could speak. “I’m going alone. I need you here, Adam, especially since Corbin’s here.” John studied his son’s face to get a read on his attitude. He saw disappointment, but also eagerness to help. “Look, I know you want to come with me, but your time will come. For now, your place is here, in the house, protecting your family when I’m gone. Can you do that?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Good. Now, I’ll have one of the radios with me, and mom will have the other. You might need to help her out until she gets comfortable with it.” John pulled on his coveralls and continued talking as Adam taped up his sleeves and cuffs. “We made call signs, I’m Dog, mom is Cat and you are . . ?”

“Snake!” said Adam.

“OK. You’re Snake. Abby is Fox and Corbin is . . . Bird. That should get us through the mission. If we need to jump to a different channel
let’s use the birthdate of that person’s call-sign. If I say, jump to Fox, then we’ll jump to channel sixteen for Abby’s birthday. Understand?”

“Yes, dad. I understand,” replied Adam.

“Good. Now stay alert, and go get the shotgun for mom while I finish suiting up.”

John was sitting on the mudroom bench, lacing up his boots, when Adam entered carrying the shotgun. His excited grin troubled John. “Adam, I know you think this is fun, and that’s OK, but it’s also very serious. I taught you how to handle yourself with firearms because I believed that one day you would need that skill, and I was right. But don’t take that responsibility lightly. Your life, and the life of everyone in this house, may depend on your skill. So stay alert and keep your eyes and ears open. And help your mom with Corbin . . . keep him busy.”

“I will, dad, and I do take it seriously,” said Adam, and he raised the shotgun slightly when he said “it,” to emphasize his understanding of his firearm responsibilities.

“OK then. I’ll be gone for about an hour,” said John, as he slipped the breathing mask and goggles around his neck. He pulled up the hood of the painter’s coveralls and briefly adjusted the straps of his helmet before he set it on his head. John studied Adam closely before saying, “I’ll give mom a radio check about every ten minutes. I’ll do the first check as soon as I’m outside, so lock up and go straight to her.” Adam nodded as John set the mask and goggles onto his face. “I love you, son. Now be alert and I’ll be back before you know it.”

John entered the mud room, put on his vest, and opened the door. He stepped back into the dark gray fog of ash, and noticed that it seemed to still be falling. Ash seemed to hang in the air, as if gravity played no role in determining its direction of travel. He looked up and found that it didn’t accumulate on his goggles like it did earlier, but the air was still thick with fine gray powder. He waded through the ash and stopped in the middle of the driveway, wondering if walking to Corbin’s house was such a good idea after all.

Cutting through the ash was tiring. He noticed the ash was just below the Suburban’s back bumper, which tempted him to drive, but he wasn’t ready to risk damaging his truck just yet. He also didn’t feel like going back inside for the car keys. He wondered how the big truck would perform in the ash. Would it slip on the turns, or just plow through without difficulty. He also wondered if it would choke his engine.

John moved to the front of the Suburban and leaned against the right fender. It wasn’t to rest as much as it was an opportunity to survey the area ahead. He studied the unblemished ash before him and wondered if he could fashion a set of snowshoes, something to keep him up on the surface. Walking above the ash would definitely be easier than walking through it. John removed the radio from his tactical vest, lowered his breathing mask, and keyed the mike.

While he spoke, he looked west, to where the sun was supposed to be setting. John could just make out a thin band of diffused light on the horizon. He realized it wasn’t really light, but more a pale, gray-green band of illumination. It was barely enough to navigate by, and it would soon be gone all together. With no stars or moon in the night sky, it would be a very dark first night of ash. But it was good to know the sun was still alive, even if it was hidden under a thick layer of atmospheric ash. “Cat, this is Dog, radio check, over.” John paused a moment and said, “Cat! Cat, this is Dog. Radio check, over.”

“Dog, this is Cat . . . I read you . . . Lima Charlie . . . whatever that’s supposed to mean,” was Jenna’s return voice on the radio.

John chuckled and realized Adam must be standing over her, coaching her on what to say. “Cat. I read you loud and clear. I’ll check again in one-zero mikes, Dog, out.” John clipped the radio back to his vest. He regretted not thinking about using a throat-mike and ear piece, but it was too late to change his equipment now. He knew it wouldn’t be his last trip into the ash, so he would make the changes before his next excursion.

Worried about tripping over something under the ash, John made his way to the crape myrtle bushes that lined the west side of his property. With his combat knife, he hacked away a single, six-foot length of branch. After clearing it of the smaller branches, he tested the new walking stick by leaning his weight onto it. Satisfied that it was solid enough to use as a probe, John set off to join the road. After tripping over the brick in the back yard, he planned to use the stick to keep from stepping in a hole, or falling over some other unknown hazard.

John stayed to the side of the driveway as he slowly plowed his way to the road. Very little of the surrounding landscape was discernable under the ash, but he was also surprised at how tired he felt by the time he reached the road. Shuffling his feet through the ash was hard work, and Corbin’s house was close to a half mile away. He figured he’d be exhausted by the time he reached it. He also cursed himself for not bringing any water with him.

Seeking the middle of the road with his walking stick, John turned left. He was delighted to see a car-wide path in the road. It wasn’t completely clear, meaning a car probably passed by a couple hours ago, but it was better than walking in the deep ash. John was familiar with walking through snow, but walking through ash was a little like wading through quicksand - it didn’t push away like snow did - and he was forced to lean into every step. His thighs were beginning to burn from the exertion.

He knew about where Corbin’s house was, but he would only know for sure by looking at the mailbox numbers. Unfortunately, John didn’t remember Corbin’s street number. With all the familiar details covered in ash, it would take time to find the home by checking all the mailboxes, so he decided to ask Adam for the number during their next radio check.

John heard, or perhaps felt a low rumble in the air. He wasn’t sure about the source, because it was very low, and he wondered if it was a distant earthquake. He stood still, trying to get a better feel for the vibrations. Unable to decide what was causing the vibrations, he knelt
and pushed a gloved hand through the ash to touch the road’s surface. There was no shaking of the earth, no tremor, only the uneven surface of the poorly finished asphalt road.

The vibrations grew and John stood up. A pale glow of light began to illuminate the gray mist around him. He turned and saw two dim orbs of light steadily approaching him. He immediately dove to his left and rolled in the ash. The thick layer of ash diffused the impact of his dive, but it also coated him like a powdered donut. He felt ash trickle down his neck, and fill the open slits of the coveralls at his waist. He came up on a knee in time to watch the barely discernible red tail-lights of a car disappear into the gray fog. The vehicle raised a formidable cloud of ash behind it as it passed, but John was glad to be alive. He doubted the driver even saw him.

After conducting a quick equipment check, John found he had everything but his new walking stick. He searched for the stick it in the ash, but after several minutes of probing with his foot, he gave up and walked back to the middle of the road. He wasn’t happy about being covered in ash, but seeing the newly plowed car path instantly dispelled his frustration. At least now he wouldn’t have to plow himself through the ash. When he returned to the middle of the road he called Jenna on the radio. “Car . . . Dog, over.”