Walking in the Rain (Book 4): Dark Sky Thunder (12 page)

Dad gave me a look when I paused again, and I could see the serious expression he now wore. “Buddy, Melba, Lee, Andy,” Dad said, looking directly at the youngest of the Farrell boys, Andy, who was still staying quiet and leaning against the wall, “what Luke’s got to say, it needs to stay here. We’re taking a risk even talking about this stuff, but I feel like you need to know. First chance I get, I’m going into Center to see the sheriff and tell him some of this, too. But only if he swears to keep it to himself as well.”

“Jeez, Sam, what is it?” Buddy muttered, but only after looking at each of his boys and his wife in turn. He was making his point.

“Luke, tell ’em,” was all my dad had to say.

So, for the next twenty minutes, I explained what I had learned. First on a lonely stretch of highway in Oklahoma, then later, from the battles that ensued. I passed on the facts and shared the conjecture as I related the planning session I’d been privy to in McAlester. I saw Buddy twist in his seat when I mentioned the general who had been murdered on his own base, and Lee hissed when I explained about the attack on the Pine Bluff facility.

As I spoke, Andy walked over to the table like a moth drawn to a flickering flame, and he stood with his mouth open as I described the scene I witnessed at the Red River Army Depot, and what the soldier there had said.

The four sat quietly, digesting what I’d said. Buddy finally stirred himself enough to speak. “So on top of everything else, we need to watch out for the Black Helicopters, too?”

I had to laugh at that comment, and winced at the move. I tried to cover, but I felt the eyes of the listeners drawn to me.

“What’s wrong, son?” Buddy asked, all humor gone from his voice. “You pick up a stomach bug? Lee here showed up with one, had him shooting liquids out of both ends.”

“Shoot, Dad, I can’t believe you said that,” Lee blurted, once again realizing that there is no age limit on how old you have to be before your parents stop embarrassing you. That realization made me grin to myself before I replied.

“No sir. Caught a ricochet in the gut a few weeks back,” I said. “Freak thing, I guess. Seems to have bounced off the bottom of the body armor and got me anyway. Just bad luck.”

When I saw the Farrells all flinch, I hastened to add that the doctors with the National Guard troops patched me up nicely. I went on to describe Dr. Spaulding’s deal with the soldiers and how that extended to include me for the short time I was there.

I heard my father’s snort as I finished my explanation. “Kid’s a bullet magnet. Barely out of my sight four months, and he’s been shot three times,” he said in a deadpan voice.

I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but I saw my mom react instantly, her eyes growing big as saucers. “Three times?” she nearly shrieked, her hand going to her mouth as she turned in her seat to scrutinize me more closely. Probably checking to see if I was missing any body parts she might have overlooked.

“Please,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation, “that first time shouldn’t even count. I burned myself worse than that on the ranch. Just got a scratch on my arm, really.”

“And the second time?” Buddy asked carefully, as if he was worried about the answer.

“Didn’t even break the skin. Sniper got me in the trauma plate,” I explained, tapping the area over my chest.

“Jesus,” Lee exhaled, “I thought I had it rough trying to get an old utility truck started at the plant. Was stuck there two weeks trying to scavenge enough parts to get it running. I had to fight off some scavengers nosing around the auto shop, but nothing too serious. I saw some terrible stuff coming back, but I darned sure didn’t get shot.”

I looked up with interest. I’d love to hear the rest of that story, but we had bigger fish to fry at the moment. I held up my hand and tried to get us back on topic. “Yes, the world is a bad place. Yes, Lee and I have seen some of it. We all know this. Dad thought you guys needed to know there’s other stuff going on. That’s all.”

“And what are we supposed to do if these Homeland goons show up here?” Mrs. Farrell asked, and I could tell from her tone she wasn’t planning on baking them cookies.

“Melba, it was me, I’d shoot, shovel, and shut it. These guys are bad news and seem to have an agenda. We don’t know what that might be at the moment. Maybe that Captain…”

“Vanderpool,” I supplied, sensing Dad’s drift.

“Maybe Vanderpool is right. Maybe this is an attempt by the remnants of the federal government to seize absolute control, or at least thin the herd where the peons are getting too good at surviving.”

“But you don’t think so?” Buddy said. The older man was sitting forward in his chair, his attention centered on my father now.

“I don’t know. But this doesn’t seem like one of those conspiracy theories I read before. The reason those Guardsmen wanted to talk to Luke was because the DHS troopers seemed less than capable. I mean, sure, bullies and killers, but they missed a Humvee with a Javelin for God…goodness sake.”

He growled out that last bit, as if he were insulted by the ineptitude of the men trying to kill Amy. Kill me, too, for that matter. I got it, though. “They weren’t very good. Paramilitaries at best, I think Amy called them. They bunched up trying to get through the fence at the McAlester Armory. They tried to rely on numbers and bull through instead of splitting into teams and providing cover fire for a few men working with wire cutters.”

“And that’s another thing, Lucas. How could you bring those young girls into such a dangerous situation? They could have been killed. What were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all?”

Mom’s scolding caught me off guard, and I took a moment to collect my thoughts as the rest of the room sat in shocked silence. My father opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw I was ready to speak.

“Bringing those young ladies may have been a mistake, but do not mistake their age for level of maturity. The circumstances, well, they’re not ideal. I didn’t think the trip from Arkansas was going to be that dangerous or I would have stuck with my first plan and left Amy behind with our friends there. I think Lori was going to Oklahoma, with or without me. In any event, they saved me from being overrun at the armory. Those young ladies held the flank, as I think Dad would call it, and shot when they needed to.” I spoke precisely, each word emerging from my mouth in a neutral monotone that sounded forced. And it was. I thought for a second before continuing.

“I know you don’t think much of this idea. Of my commitment to Amy. That’s fine. These days, everybody’s got an opinion. This is not the place to discuss the matter, though. We can talk about the rest of it later.”

Watching my mother’s eyes steadily, I saw them flare as my words hit home. She started to say something, but my father hissed one word.

“Enough.”

Well, that sure soured the mood,
I thought. Mrs. Farrell took the opportunity to fetch her teapot from the wood stove and freshen our drinks. Sassafras tea, I thought, and sipped the cooling beverage as the silence lay heavy in the room.

Finally, Buddy got back to business and ignored the glowering glance my mother shot in my direction. “So what else did you notice about these jack-booted government thugs, Lucas?”

I thought about the question hard, using the topic to distract me from the turmoil brewing in my befuddled brain. The idea of my mother blocking my betrothal to Amy was unacceptable. Unthinkable. Time to think about something else.

“Well, they certainly seemed to lack any type of basic soldiering skills. Their armor rolled right into that ambush at the Red River Depot. Those Regular Army troops suckered them straight into a trap and blew them to pieces. Used prepositioned guns and camouflage to hide the preparations. I can’t believe they made the move without scouting the area more thoroughly. Speaking as an amateur, it was an amateur mistake.”

“So they’re not as big of a threat, then?” Lee said hopefully, but my father shook his head.

“They are animals equipped with state-of-the-art weapons, Lee. That’s always a threat. But they have some sort of agenda. Luke, didn’t you say the bozo that got all his guys massacred at the Pine Bluff site claimed to be a regional director for the DHS?”

I nodded, and then added that the “tame” Homeland guards didn’t even recognize the dead man as being with the Department, much less being a boss.

“So what can we do here? To make things safer?” Mrs. Farrell asked, cutting to the chase.

“I know everybody is concerned about more raids, and I didn’t bring up the other stuff to add to y’alls worry. Chances are we won’t see any kind of government presence out here, but I’m worried about what they might try in town. Center’s not that that big, but it is the county seat. Like I said, I’m going to go talk to the sheriff about this.”

“And nobody is looking for you, Luke?” Lee asked, his question a simple inquiry, rather than a challenge.

“Well, I did kill a number of their guys and steal some of their toys. I also captured one alive and turned him over to the Oklahoma Guard, too. But no, the only people who knew where we were headed are here with me. Even Sergeant Barlow just knew we were headed for East Texas. Like I told Dad, we stripped out all the GPS trackers we could find, and disabled the fancy military radio. Oh, and in case y’all didn’t notice, that big SUV shouldn’t be running unless it was specially shielded or stored underground. So that makes me kind of curious, but that’s for another day.”

I could see the group, not just the Farrells, thinking about that information. As for my mother, well, I resolved at that point to just stop self-censoring. She would get the whole, unvarnished truth out of me from this point forward.

“Look,” my dad began again, “Luke has seen how some communities are joining together for the common good. Teaming up to support each other against the threats out there. Now, I made sure you guys have those little handheld radios and a simple charger so we could stay in touch. Not much chance of anybody intercepting our calls since the range is so short. What I am proposing is we continue helping each other and be willing to come to the aid of any others in our group.”

“Who are you thinking about? We don’t have a lot to spare, Sam. Yes, we have the boys, all four of them, and their wives and some cousins, but that’s not a lot when you think about all we have to do just to stay alive and feed ourselves.” Buddy wasn’t complaining, I don’t think. Just playing it straight with us. He might have four or five shooters they could spare to aid the neighbors in an emergency, but any more would risk the viability of their home place.

“Well, we have two houses, and with Luke’s return, he’s brought us seven more adults and two small children. That’s extra hands around the ranch, as well as more bodies to patrol and stand watch. Also, I know you guys are short on ammunition, and the firearms you have are great for hunting, but not so good for defending your property.”

“We do all right,” Buddy claimed, but I saw the look in Melba’s eyes as he spoke. She wanted to know what my dad was offering.

“I know you do, Buddy. But I am in a position to help. I saw Clyde and Yancy had a pair of those Russian made SKS rifles. And I see Andy and Lee have bolt-action hunting rifles. All good stuff, but what I’m offering to you, my friend, is another pair of those SKS rifles and a pair of the Romanian made AK-47 knockoffs. Nothing fancy, but they all take that 7.62x39 Russian ammo. And I can throw in five thousand rounds of that. Again, nothing great, but the surplus ammunition is reliable. I’ve shot plenty of it over the years.”

“And what do you want in return?” Buddy asked, his tone cautious.

“Just a little help. Watch our flank, just like we will be doing for you. And maybe kick in some food for those squatters we talked to over at the old Skillman place. Not a lot, but something to help them out if you have it to spare. They seem like decent folks in a hard place, and we are in a position to help. And they will help us watch the backside of our properties.”

I saw Melba and Lee blink simultaneously at Dad’s offer. Weapons and ammo were priceless commodities at the moment, and for the Farrells, such a simple shift in firepower might save all of their lives.

“Sam, I want to say yes, but isn’t that going to leave you short? I don’t think we should be robbing Peter to pay Paul.”

That Buddy managed to even make a pro forma protest was a credit to the man’s character. He clearly didn’t want Dad to weaken our own position to improve their situation.

“No, Buddy, we have it to give.”

“You had that much stored back?” Lee asked, his voice going low.

“No, mostly this is stuff we picked up off of dead people trying to kill us.”

Well, nobody could argue with that, and Buddy quickly accepted. And then we had two groups of neighbors willing to work with us. That was a good start. But we would need more if we wanted to be safe from more raiders attacking our sanctuary here. Then as we made our goodbyes and got ready to leave, I wondered if we would ever truly be safe.

The next day dawned bright and early but I was already up and taking care of my morning chores. Amy joined me in feeding the horses and mucking out the stalls, and we found the cool morning air invigorating rather than chilling. Fall would be upon us soon, but late August was typically still sweltering by midday.

While we worked, I filled Amy in on all the details of the meeting from the previous day. I skipped Mom’s irritated outburst and the silent truck ride home afterwards. Once we were back and after dinner was cleaned up, I’m pretty sure Dad had a conversation with Mom in the kitchen to which I was not privy. I just heard the rattle of dishes and the occasional raised voice.

We didn’t even discuss the shooting at Mr. Williams’s place. That was old news and Mr. Gaddis was already making himself at home over at the Big House. Dad was taking a crew over with the old man to his house today to move his blacksmithing setup over to one of the outbuildings we already used as a shop. I didn’t think they would be able to budge that anvil without using the front-end loader. Well, not my problem today.