Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2) (27 page)

“I didn't see any antenna. Besides, we've got a nice tall hill right here. If we see anyone coming from town we can be long gone before they get here. Assuming you aren't lying. And if you are lying then you should probably just give up now. We don't have to bust down this door to kill you guys, you know.”

Before Matt could respond a slightly muffled
crack
shivered through the door, and a hole appeared in its center at about chest height. Matt was so surprised by the sudden circle of daylight that he barely noticed the sting on his arm where the bullet had grazed him.

Instinct kicked in and he shoved his dad to one side of the door, putting his back against the wall on the other as he followed the path of the bullet towards Sam, April, and Terry, still standing farther back. He could see the whites of all their eyes. “Anyone hit?” he hissed.

“No,” came a chorus of replies.

Matt beckoned frantically to them, and after an uncomprehending moment they all rushed to the front of the shelter to crouch beside him and his dad on either side of the door. The safest places to be aside from behind the stove, which was already occupied. Matt took his dad's hunting rifle from April, doing his best to control his breathing as anger replaced his shock and panic.

“It would be nice to call whoever just shot at me by name,” he said. “You realize that bullet flopped like a dying fish by the time it got through a door this thick?”

“That was a .308, Larson,” the spokesman replied. “I'm guessing none of you got hit, but if you did you'd definitely be fee-”

While the attacker was still talking Matt spun out partially in front of the door and leveled his dad's gun straight out in front of him. He fired a shot at the near edge, worked the bolt as he shuffled a bit to the side and fired another shot, repeated the action and fired a third, and repeated the action again to fire a fourth and last shot at the far end of the door before flattening himself against the wall beside his dad.

Everyone else was holding their hands over their ears, and he wished he'd had ear protection as he shouted over the renewed ringing in his own. Sometime during the short space between shots he also thought he'd heard screaming, but he didn't hear it now. He barely heard himself as he called to the attackers.

“That was a .30-06! I'm guessing someone got hit, and you're definitely feeling it!”

The reply came in the form of a long string of cursing through the five holes now punched through their front door. It was a different voice than the one who'd spoken before. It also seemed to be coming from farther away, as if their attackers had retreated up the ramp to escape the unexpected return fire. Matt took a chance and quickly looked through the nearest hole, which only seemed large until he tried to peer through it.

He couldn't see much, but from what he could tell of the shadows in the ramp no one was down there. He did see a bit of a foot and leg crouched up beside the ramp, and he lifted his rifle up to the very top of the door in line to try for a shot at it.

He must've hit, because over the renewed ringing in his ears he heard another string of cursing and shots fired wildly from the top of the ramp, none of which pierced through since they were shot at an angle.

“You're dead, Larson! You hear!” the new spokesman screamed. “You and your whole family are dead!”

Matt peered through the new hole he'd made higher up, but nobody was in sight there. He tried the other holes as he darted across to the other side of the door to rejoin Sam and April, but he couldn't see anyone from them either. “They're trying something,” he muttered. He glanced up at the ceiling, which was unbroken aside from the holes for the stovepipe and the two vents, one near the front of the shelter and one at the back. “Don't go anywhere near the vents or stovepipe holes, just in case they try to shoot down.”

His dad was breathing hard even though he hadn't moved in several minutes. “The vents have those wind turbines on top and the stovepipe has its hat. We should be able to hear something if they try to take those off to line up a shot.”

Matt nodded but didn't respond, since he'd just heard noises coming from the stovepipe only a few feet away and a bit farther back. Just to be safe he rushed his wife and sister to the other side of the door before following himself, and in a huddle they all waited for some sign of what the attackers had planned, ears quivering for any sounds.

No gunshots came from the stovepipe, and only that brief bit of rustling. He also heard some rustling from the vents, but no shots came from them either. After several minutes of tense silence Matt felt himself relaxing a bit.

Time was on their side. He might have lied about radioing out for help but eventually someone in town would notice that no one from the Larson clan had been around for a while. Matt might not be missed, since he didn't always come back into town for planning and paperwork after his shift. But Terry probably would be, or if not him then Sam or April since they continued to help at the clinic and even took over his duties when he wasn't available.

While Matt was thinking that over a sudden uneasiness settled over him: something about the room was different. He couldn't tell what it was, but after living here for months he knew there was something wrong. Sam had been fussing with the bullet graze on his arm while they waited, but he gently pushed her fingers away and straightened, looking around.

Woodsmoke. That wasn't all that odd since they had the stove slow burning most of the time to heat the large space, but usually most of the smoke made it out through the pipe stretched along the ceiling, heating the room before making its way outside. The only time the smoke would be this thick was if they had a large fire going in the stove or if the flue was shut.

Feeling a sudden surge of dread, almost as much as when they'd shot at him through the door, Matt leaned close to his dad. “Watch the door,” he hissed. Without waiting for a response he hurried across the room to the stove, barely sparing time for a reassuring smile for his mom and nephews huddling behind it before throwing the door in front open.

Smoke billowed out, and as he coughed against it he snatched up a nearby pail of water they used for hand washing and threw it onto the flames. With a sharp
hiss
the smoke was joined by steam, and Matt hurriedly shut the door again to close it off, then turned to his worried looking family. “They've closed off the stovepipe and vents. They're trying to suffocate us.”

“Matt!” his dad shouted, eye pressed to a hole in the door. “They're starting a fire!”

Matt sprinted back to the door and looked through a hole beside his dad. As he watched a flaming log flew down the ramp to thump against the door, quickly followed by another. “It's okay, the only thing anywhere near that fire that's flammable is the wood in the door, and it's behind sheet metal. They're not burning this place down.”

“But they've blocked all our sources of air,” April pointed out. “They don't have to burn us out, the smoke will do the job.”

Matt should've considered that, even beyond the immediate danger of fire itself. The rain of flaming logs continued as they watched until it was stacked halfway up the door and smoke poured through the bullet holes in thin black fingers that didn't seem like much until you realized how quickly it added up over time. The refugees were taking wood from the woodpile, that was obvious enough, but where were they finding a flammable liquid to douse it with?

He realized the answer about the time his dad got around to asking the question, so he spoke it out loud. “The shipping container Lewis uses as a shed. They must have cut the lock to get at the stuff inside. He had a tank with dozens of gallons of gasoline in there.”

“Gasoline?” Terry repeated incredulously. “That's worth its weight in gold! Ferris just left it behind?”

“It's old,” Matt said. “It won't run in vehicles, but it definitely still burns.”

Sam caught his arm. “What if they pour it down the vents?” she asked worriedly. “Or into the stovepipe? They could set everything in here on fire!”

Matt finally got his senses about him and began ripping up his undershirt to stuff into the bullet holes. That might not help much since the cloth would probably start on fire, but it would have to do until he could think of something better. “Even if it doesn't work for cars gasoline would still be valuable. They might be trying to save it since the fire should be enough to do the job.”

She punched his arm, which wasn't like her. “Thanks for the reassurance. I think it's about time we used that secret escape tunnel, don't you?”

“Yeah.” Matt felt his face flush. “I, um, forgot about that in the heat of the moment.” Which was stupid. If he'd thought of it earlier he could've used it to get out and try a sneak attack on the people attacking them. Maybe his resolution to keep it a secret for Lewis had been a bit
too
strong.

He quickly led the way to the bathroom, where he pried up the base of the shower to reveal sturdy wooden supports covering a drop of about four feet to dry ground below. He pulled the supports out as well and motioned, and starting with his dad and Terry so they could secure the exit his family began dropping down into the hole and inching along it.

Matt handed down Aaron and Paul to his mom, then ushered April into the hole after them, holding Henrietta's wire cage with a very ruffled chicken inside. Last of all he kissed Sam and held her tight for a moment, then watched her drop down and begin crawling away.

Before following he took a last look around the shelter. If the door held and flames didn't spread inside then the worst they'd have to deal with when they returned was smoke damage and airing the place out, assuming they managed to get away safely. And even if the thieves got in and stole everything of value at least his family still had their lives.

It was hard to be objective about that when they were starving, though: once he was sure everyone was safely away he was going to come back and see if he couldn't make these people regret attacking his home, or if nothing else at least delay them long enough for the others to bring help.

He dropped into the hole, noting the plumbing pipes that ran along it a short ways to the septic system before the tunnel continued on to whatever exit Lewis had rigged up. In all his time wandering around the place Matt had seen no sign of any exit, but he was sure his friend had found a way to conceal it and still have it be easy to get out of.

He pulled the supports back into place, then ducked down and pulled the shower base into position over his head.

Just before finishing the task he paused, though, as he heard a hiss coming from the door. It was getting louder and louder as he listened, and he also heard shouts. Urgent shouts, but not angry or violent. Matt paused, then pushed the shower base back off the hole and climbed out, exiting the bathroom to look at the door.

The bits of cloth he'd stuffed into the hole had burned away, but instead of black smoke white steam was pouring through. He also saw a few drips of water trickling inside from the crack at the bottom of the door. Hurrying over, he squinted through the highest bullet hole and saw shovelfuls of snow being flung down the ramp onto the smoldering logs in front of the door.

Matt rushed back to the secret tunnel and poked his head down. “Are you guys still there?” he hissed in a low voice. No answer. He tried yelling louder. Eventually Sam crawled into view, dark hair sprinkled with dirt and a smudge on her nose. In spite of the situation Matt couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of affection, joining with his growing relief to make him laugh.

Her eyes narrowed, and the look she gave him wasn't exactly affectionate. “What?”

“If they haven't uncovered the exit yet stop them,” Matt said. “Someone's putting out the fire and it would be good to keep that hidden.”

* * * * *

A few minutes later the Larson family was gathered in the bathroom, ready to bolt through the tunnel again if necessary, while Matt stood in front of the door peering out a bullet hole. Even the steam had stopped pouring through the holes, and he didn't have to wait long before several people appeared picking their way over the smoldering logs. Someone began pounding on the metal outside with what sounded like the handle of a shovel. “Matt?” came a familiar voice muffled through the door. “Is everyone all right?”

Grinning in relief and motioning his family to cover up the secret exit and come out, Matt hurried to the door and threw back the bolts, then unlocked the doorknob and pulled it open. Crammed onto the ramp behind the pile of smoldering logs the Mayor, Chauncey, Ben, and Tam all stood with worried expressions on their faces. “We're all fine,” he assured them.

Catherine vaulted the extinguished fire and pulled him into a hug. “Oh thank God. When Jane on patrol saw the smoke coming from your shelter we feared the worst. We came as fast as we could, but we were afraid we hadn't put out the fire in time.” She pushed past him to hug his mom and dad, then the rest of the family.

Matt looked up the ramp to the cleared space between the two hills the shelter occupied. A dozen or so men and women knelt on the ground there surrounded by familiar faces from the town's defenders holding a mixture of rifles and shotguns, warily watching their every move. Off to one side three bodies were stretched out while beside them two injured men complained loudly and were ignored by everyone except Jane, but only because she was guarding them.